Scenes from a Life: Kurt Hummel
by vcg73
Summary: This is a collection of individual Kurt-centric short stories, each based on a 1 word prompt. Family - Friendship - Romance . . . honestly there's a little bit of everything. There were originally going to be 30 short stories. I ended with 26 before I ran out of ideas, so if anyone wishes to prompt me for "letters", "promise", "simple" or "future", feel free.
1. Beginning

**Where it all began...**

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The young man stood anxiously by the side of the bed, his frame absolutely still except for the shallow breaths barely moving his chest and the rapid blinking of his bluish-green eyes. His arms were held out rigidly in front of him, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring as he appeared to brace himself for what was about to come.

A soft laugh met the determined stance. "You don't have to worry about him being too heavy, Daddy. He barely weighs six pounds. In fact, this will be far easier on you both if you can manage to relax a bit."

Drawing a deep breath, the nervous man brushed a hand through his thick dark hair and shook his shoulders out before trying again, attempting to look a bit less like a weight-lifter about to be handed an anvil and more like a father about to hold his child for the very first time. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous I guess."

The kindly nurse smiled indulgently. "Happens all the time, trust me. You have nothing to be nervous about. You'll be an old pro before you know it. Now, here you go." She placed a lightly squirming blue-blanketed bundle into his arms, positioning him to support the baby's head in the palm of his hand.

"Oh, God." Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed down into that small, wrinkled face, getting his first good look at the life he had helped create. One thumb ventured out to pet that delicate little face, marveling at its softness. He had never been a big believer in the Almighty, but right at this moment he was tempted to change his mind. There was no other way to explain the sheer perfection that he was witnessing in such a teeny, squirming, red-faced package. Stroking over the baby's head, he frowned, a bit concerned. "Will he? I mean, um … I kind of expected him to have more hair."

A chuckle from the nurse met this statement. The baby did have a bit of damp, downy fuzz here and there, but nothing that could rightfully be called hair. "Don't worry about that. Give him a little time and it will come. All of the important parts are accounted for. Ten fingers, ten toes…" They both laughed when the baby suddenly took a breath and let out a lusty howl of infant outrage. "And a very healthy set of lungs!"

"What did I tell you?" A tired but happy voice spoke from the bed, making him look up. "Listen to that voice. Didn't I say when he started kicking me every time you turned on the garage radio that he was going to be a singer?"

"Just like his mom," Burt agreed happily, going back to his wondering inspection of the yowling child in his arms, addressing him directly. "And here I thought you just didn't like the Classic Rock station."

The baby continued to wail and Burt jiggled him sympathetically, trying to calm the unhappy boy. "Aww, don't cry, little guy. It's okay. What's the matter? Are you hungry?"

"He probably is. He had a rough day," the boy's mother agreed, green eyes tired but so full of love as she took in the sight of her precious newborn and the awe-struck father who couldn't quite bear to part with him yet. "Bring him here, darling. Let's see if we can get him to nurse a little."

Burt moved closer and settled himself carefully on the side of the bed next to his wife. His rough adult hands looked absolutely huge in contrast to his son's body as the baby was transferred into his mother's arms.

"Here you go. Here's Mama," Burt said softly, continuing to lightly stroke the softly heaving little back.

The child whimpered and snuffled for a few more seconds, then found what he was searching for and latched on eagerly to the source of nourishment.

"Well, he certainly seems to have his father's appetite!" the young mother laughed, stroking one unbelievably soft cheek with a wondering fingertip. "Oh, Burt. I can't believe he's finally here! Our little Kurt."

Burt would later deny it when the time came to proudly show off his son's first photos to friends and relatives, but here and now, he didn't even care that tears were trickling down his face. Kissing his wife's lips, he wept without shame. "I love you so much, honey. Thank you for giving me the most amazing son in the history of the world."

His breath caught when the baby flailed a tiny arm, miniature fingers landing on one of Burt's larger ones and instinctively curling around it.

"Looks like somebody thinks he's got a pretty amazing dad, too."

Lifting the captured digit a bit higher, Burt kissed that tiny hand, knowing in that moment that he would do anything and face everything the world could ever throw at him if it meant that he could keep Kurt safe and happy.

"I love you, too, son. I love you, too."

**THE END**

**D'awww, baby Kurt! Comments?**


	2. Accusation

**A follow-up to "Dance With Somebody", because they way that script walked all over Kurt's feelings while being sympathetic to Blaine's was simply abominable.**

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Kurt stared up at the ceiling above his bed, brooding. Friday night dinner was over, he had no weekend homework for once, and his skin care routine could wait until bed-time. He knew he should get up and do something, but once he'd flopped back on the mattress he just hadn't been able to motive himself to do anything else.

All he could think about was the fight he'd had with Blaine this week.

It was over now, they had made up after talking things out in Miss Pillsbury's office, but the reasoning behind that fight was still bothering him; a lot.

No matter how hard he tried to see things from Blaine's point of view, he still couldn't understand how he could have been accused of cheating on his boyfriend. Not for a series of stupid, silly, flirtatious text messages! After all, it wasn't like he and Chandler had been sexting, which Blaine should know since he had helped himself to Kurt's message archive and read most of them.

Kurt had told Chandler he had a boyfriend before their phone numbers were even exchanged, and the other boy had seemed totally okay with that. He'd just wanted to be friends. The texts had been nothing more than a collection of sweet but dorky compliments, and one-liners so lame they would have probably gotten the boy laughed out of any bar in America if he had tried to use them seriously. That's part of why Kurt had loved them so much. They had been dumb but they had been very flattering, and they had made him laugh; a nice and all too rare feeling. Kurt had laughed over one of those goofy remarks the day they met, and the other boy had lit up with pleasure upon hearing it. Kurt had a great laugh, he had claimed, and he wanted to cause it to be heard more, even if he couldn't be there to hear it himself.

Kurt hadn't even known how badly he had needed some positive attention until it started. That was why he had always replied to Chandler's messages with a smiley face, or a "LOL" or a simple return of the favor. He wanted his new friend to know how much he appreciated the effort.

Did that really make him a cheater?

When Kurt called Chandler yesterday to ask him not to text anymore, the other boy had apologized profusely, so surprised that his texting had been taken offensively. They barely knew each other, and it had broken Kurt's heart a little to hear the sadness in his voice as he agreed to leave him alone from now on. Kurt had wanted to explain, to promise they could still be friends, but he had not. He had put Blaine first, just like he always did.

What still gnawed at him, though, was the unfairness of it all. How was it right that Kurt had had to give up his budding friendship with the boy in the music store, while Blaine had felt fully justified (if a little guilty) in continuing his phone/text relationship with Sebastian Smythe for weeks, uncontested? Kurt had hated that guy, but it was not his place to choose Blaine's friends for him. Not even when he was sure that there was no way in hell those conversations had been as innocent as Blaine claimed.

The friendship probably _had_ been innocent on Blaine's part, and that knowledge was what had allowed Kurt to make peace with it. At least until 'The Great Rocksalt Slushy Incident', anyway. But he had never for one minute believed that it was totally innocent on Sebastian's side. Sebastian Smythe had made no secret of how badly he wanted to get in Blaine's pants. That guy probably couldn't call for take-out without making the order sound smarmy and full of innuendo!

Kurt had trusted Blaine, and it hurt like a knife to the heart to know that his trust had not been reciprocated. Especially when he had never given Blaine any reason to doubt his love.

Rolling over onto his side, Kurt's eyes caught sight of his abandoned iPod and he scowled darkly, remembering how Blaine had taken what should have remained a private disagreement and deliberately turned it into Glee gossip fodder.

What had given him the right to publicly accuse Kurt of cheating on him with a guy Kurt had spent all of fifteen minutes of physical proximity with? He hadn't asked, he hadn't explained to the others, he had just accused and then played the injured martyr card for all the annoyingly sympathetic members of their glee club.

Blaine had heard all the stories, _from Kurt_, about the ins and outs of New Directions infidelity and had used that to his own advantage without a moment's hesitation. And _then_, when Kurt had tried to be the bigger man and apologize with a song of his own, not even begging his own share of sympathy from his so-called friends, a method that experience assured him would bring about conversation and a tender reconciliation, Blaine had ignored him! He had pouted and ignored Kurt for another full day until he was finally lured into Emma Pillsbury's antiseptic lair.

Why couldn't Blaine have just _talked_ to him? Was he really that unapproachable? It was true that Blaine wasn't always the best communicator, especially when it came to expressing his emotions without benefit of song, but wasn't Kurt worth the effort of even trying?

With his dad and Blaine both independently deciding that the best way to prepare themselves for his graduation and eventual departure for New York was to ignore him, Kurt had been feeling lonely and insignificant for weeks. He hadn't understood the true reason for their distance, comforting himself with reminders that they were busy with other parts of their lives. Congress and work, Finals and applying for summer jobs; things like that. Things that simply didn't leave time for him.

It hadn't seemed fair then, and it seemed even less so now that he knew the truth.

The funny thing was, Kurt could _almost_ understand their logic. His own style tended more toward grabbing on tight to the people he cared about and refusing to let go until he absolutely had to, but he knew that wasn't true of everyone. Everyone had their own way of dealing with loss, even impending loss, and he could respect that even if he didn't necessarily like it.

So, Kurt had forgiven them. He knew that Dad hadn't meant any harm, and he had realized on his own what he was doing and been honest about it. Apologized for it. He hadn't required virtual teeth-pulling to even admit there was something wrong, like Blaine had.

Kurt sighed deeply. When the dam had finally burst, Blaine had been so adorably penitent, and Kurt's resentment had crumbled to dust in the face of it. He had accepted Blaine's explanation, apology and cute flirty text in the spirit which they had been offered. He had even accepted the invitation to make out for a few minutes in the choir room after everyone else had gone home, though part of him felt like he should have held out longer, because he had missed Blaine so terribly.

At least he had held himself together somehow when Blaine had turned on the big eyes and charming wiles, trying to coax Kurt into going back to his empty house with him. Kurt had known exactly how that would end, and had hastily offered an excuse about needing to be home in time for dinner with his dad.

Blaine had accepted the explanation with an understanding smile, he knew all about the Friday night dinner ritual by now, and given Kurt a sweet kiss that almost made him change his mind. He hadn't though. In truth, Kurt had not been in the mood. He had needed time alone to think, and so he had taken his leave with only a small feeling of regret.

He wondered if Blaine had even given the reasons behind their disagreement another thought once the hatchet was buried. Certainly he had seemed perfectly happy, contentedly filling up his monogrammed leather planner with weeks worth of ideas for things they could do together. (All with Kurt's blessing, of course.)

Dates and dinners and … yes, make-out sessions … all neatly jotted down so as not to be forgotten.

Kurt sighed again, grabbing a pillow and twisting around to face the foot of the bed on his stomach. He didn't mind Blaine's tendency toward organization and time management (some might say _micro_-management). They were just the way he dealt with life, and Kurt loved that amusingly anal retentive side of his boyfriend as much as he loved everything else about him. He just wished it hadn't been quite that easy to slot 'boyfriend' back onto the calendar, as if Kurt was a rescheduled doctor's appointment or something.

Just as Kurt's gloomy mood was truly taking over, he was rescued by the sound of his phone ringing. Blaine's familiar ringtone of "Perfect" blasted through the room, and a smile automatically tugged his lips as he reached for the cell.

"Hey, you," he greeted, rolling over and making himself more comfortable against the pillow.

"Hi, Kurt. Listen, there's something I need to say to you." Blaine took a long pause, an audible breath, and then blurted, "I know we talked it out earlier and everything, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we left school, and I just wanted to say again that I'm _so_ sorry for everything that happened between us. For getting so bent out of shape this week and being a jerk to you in front of our friends, and accusing you of all those awful things. I know you wouldn't cheat on me and I wouldn't cheat on you either, and I shouldn't have said that. It really wasn't even you I was mad at. It was me."

"Blaine, it's okay, you don't have to…"

Blaine cut him off. "Please, Kurt, just let me get this out. I have been so completely terrified of losing you, and so mad at myself for not having the courage to tell you that, and it absolutely _kills_ me to know that I ignored you so badly that I almost drove you away."

"But you didn't," Kurt said quietly. "It wasn't all your fault. I didn't understand what you were feeling."

"Because I didn't talk to you," he admitted sadly. "I mean, you really should have talked to me too, but I totally understand why you didn't feel you could. And, God, I am _so_ sorry for making you feel so alone that you had to rely on a stranger to feel like you were worth something, Kurt. Because you are! You're worth everything to me. Absolutely everything. You're beautiful and funny and so kind. You're compassionate and forgiving, and I knew that, and I took advantage of it. You didn't deserve to be treated that way, and I … I just love you, Kurt. I love you."

Shocked and touched by the words, realizing that he had been completely wrong about all this being easy for Blaine and that his boyfriend had been pondering this awful week just as relentlessly as he had, Kurt let out a relieved laugh. The sound was a bit strangled by the tears that had welled up in his eyes and clogged his throat, but it was genuine. "I love you, too. Oh, Blaine, I've been lying here feeling so…"

He struggled to find the right words, but the weight of doubt and anger that had been weighing his chest down for the last few hours was rapidly dissolving, leaving him feeling light and truly happy for the first time in weeks.

"I know," Blaine said quietly, and Kurt realized that he was crying too. "Me, too. I was just…"

"Same," Kurt choked out. "And you're right. This was my fault as much as yours. I should have talked to you as soon as I started feeling pushed aside. Ignoring the problem just made everything worse. We've always been honest with each other about everything; that's what makes us work, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Chandler. There wasn't really very much to tell, but I still should have called you the minute I got back from the music store that day. I swear I never liked him that way. I was just flattered by all the attention, and kind of embarrassed by how much I enjoyed all those ridiculous compliments."

"They _were_ kind of lame," Blaine agreed with a smile that Kurt could hear. "I'm sure I could come up with some much better ones."

Kurt smiled. "I wouldn't mind letting you try. In fact, I might just have a few gems that I've been storing up for you too." As Blaine made a throaty noise of interest, Kurt felt his entire skin flush. Compliments weren't the only attention he'd missed from Blaine these last few weeks. He glanced at his bedside clock. "You know, it's not that late. How would you feel about meeting up with me to exchange…ideas?"

"We don't have a date planned for tonight," Blaine hedged, gulping audibly at the suggestiveness in Kurt's tone. "Do we?"

"No, but I'm feeling spontaneous," Kurt said, drawing the last word out just to tease. "What do you say we find a late snack, something fat and greasy enough to be worth a little guilt, and then maybe go someplace and spend a little time together, just you and me?"

Blaine sighed dreamily. "That sounds great. Hey, what do you say we find a terrible movie, buy some popcorn drenched in delicious fake butter, and sit up in the back row and not watch it together?"

Kurt laughed. "That sounds perfect. Meet me at the Lima Cineplex in an hour?"

"It's a date," he agreed happily. As Kurt moved to hang up, he heard Blaine say softly, "I really do love you, Kurt."

Feeling his heart swell once again, Kurt closed his eyes and just let the familiar and sorely missed certainty of being loved and wanted wash over him. "I love you, too, Blaine. So much."

As the call ended, Kurt jumped up, tossing the flattened pillow back up to the head of his bed and moving to his vanity table to begin the short version of his skin care routine. He wanted to look his best tonight.

Because if all went well tonight, then neither of them would have anything other than good memories to think about tomorrow.

**THE END**

**No, I was not a fan of the gelled-wonder in this episode. I hate it when the writers turn a nice guy into a hypocritical moron just because they don't know how to do character development. *sigh* **

**Comments?**


	3. Restless

**A chance encounter with an old frenemy puts Kurt's future into a new light.**

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Kurt fidgeted, uncomfortable in his plain white button-down shirt and khaki pants, feeling as if he were wearing somebody else's clothes. His neck and ribcage were both being strangled by the stiff strings of his Lima Bean apron and he did his best to adjust them without being too obvious about it.

His life had really come to this; a summer job at his local coffee-shop, staring into a future that was still nothing more than a big, fat, scary question mark.

He felt like a child playing dress-up as he forced his features into a welcoming smile and jotted down the coffee order of the shop's latest patron on the side of their paper cup. "Tall, no-foam, soy latte with an extra shot of espresso," he repeated back mechanically, verifying the correctness of the order. "That will be $4.59, please."

Taking the five dollar bill, he handed back the forty-one cents in change, fighting a sigh when the woman dropped her change into the tip jar on the counter. It was a nice gesture and all, but really, the sight of such a tiny tip just made him feel that much more trapped.

"Thank you for choosing the Lima Bean. What can I get you?" He asked automatically as a new customer stepped up, his gaze still trained thoughtfully on the coins that made up that miniscule tip.

"How about a camera to capture this beautiful moment?"

Kurt's head whipped up at the sound of that familiar and oh-so-unwelcome voice.

Sebastian Smythe shook his head with a show of sympathy; the gesture utterly ruined by the crooked grin tilting his lips. He made a 'tsk tsk' sound and Kurt bristled.

"Are you going to order something, or did you just come in here to make my life miserable?" he growled, keeping his voice quiet so as not to be overheard and scolded by his manager.

The smile twisted even more. "I just wanted some coffee but if I'd known _that_ was part of the service, I'd have been in here every day this summer! Get me a grande white mocha. Extra whipped cream. Suddenly I'm in a wonderful mood and I feel like splurging."

Kurt smiled sweetly as he passed back the cup with Sebastian's order, not bothering to read it back to him. "By the looks of things, you must get that urge a lot. Try not to knock over the merchandise display when you turn to leave. Or you know, you could at least beep when you back up so the other customers have some warning."

He snorted. "Really? That's the best you've got? This new career move isn't doing you any favors, Kurt. I'm actually surprised to see you here. Weren't you supposed to have been off to your precious drama school the second you finished high school? What's the matter? They refuse to let you in?"

Not rising to the bait, Kurt simply rang up his total and handed back the change from Sebastian's ten dollar bill. "Your drink will be up in a moment."

"Holy shit. I thought I was kidding. You really _didn't_ make it, did you?" Sebastian asked abruptly.

Kurt craned his neck a bit, cursing when he saw no other customers waiting behind the nuisance. It had been non-stop business all day, but of course the moment he needed an excuse to tell somebody to move on and quit holding up the line, there wasn't one.

Even worse, his manager had apparently noticed that this conversation was more than just the usual service-with-a-smile and picked this moment to say, "Why don't you take your break, Kurt? You're overdue for one anyway."

Sebastian smiled and gestured toward an empty table, silently inviting Kurt to join him as his coffee order was called up.

Kurt grimaced. Fate just had it in for him today. He wasn't getting out of this. He sighed and moved to fix himself a grande nonfat mocha. It was one of the two free beverages he received each day as a job perk, and Kurt did not even want to think about facing this conversation without some caffeine in his system.

"Let's just get this over with," he growled, plunking into a seat across from Sebastian. "Yes, I'm working at the Bean to make extra money between jobs at the Lima Community Theater. No, I did not get into NYADA, even after a spectacular audition praised by Carmen Tibideaux herself. Yes, it was very disappointing. No, I have not given up on New York. I'm just working and trying to build up some credits while I wait to hear back from the dozen or so theater groups and colleges with summer admissions programs that I've applied to since school ended. And no, I don't give a crap how big a failure you think I am, because the people whose opinions matter to me have been nothing but supportive, so you can just save the sarcasm for somebody who needs it."

Sebastian's eyebrows twitched. "You auditioned for Carmen Tibideaux?"

"Seriously? That was all you got from that? Yes. She's the new Dean of Performance at NYADA. She traveled the country personally selecting her inaugural class. She came to McKinley at the end of April."

"And she didn't shoot you down," he mused. "That's impressive, I have to admit. Madame Tibideaux is one of the most brilliant and demanding talents of the last twenty five years. Failing to make _her_ cut is nothing to be ashamed of."

Kurt blinked. "Did … you just pay me a compliment?"

He sipped his mocha, face giving away nothing. "I may not like you at all, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate that you have talent. Besides, we're not high school kids fighting over a pretty face anymore. We're in the real world now. You got a major setback but you're working your way forward in spite of it. That's a pretty brave decision and I can respect it."

"I, um, thanks I guess. I don't know about brave, though. I just refuse to be stuck in Lima for the rest of my life."

Sebastian widened his eyes, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. "You mean you _aren't_ planning to settle down in this metropolitan Mecca of tolerance and culture for the rest of your life?"

Startling himself, Kurt laughed. "Hardly. We can't all afford to be world travelers like some people, but I know there's more out there for me than this, and I'm determined to get out of this place and find it."

"Good for you," he said, and to Kurt's surprise there was not a trace of sarcasm in those words. Sebastian glanced at his watch. "And on that note, I have a plane to catch in just under two hours. Look out, Venice, here I come."

"Italy," Kurt breathed, a sudden stab of fearsome jealousy clenching his heart.

The other boy just grinned, preening at little at the envy Kurt couldn't disguise.

"I'll probably be gone for quite a while, studying abroad. But I'll look you up the next time I'm in New York. You better work hard on that dream of yours, Gayface. If I get to the Big Apple and I don't find your name up in lights, I'm going to track you down and tell everyone you know about that time you won the Diamond Dildo Award on Drag Queen Wednesday at Scandals."

"What?" Kurt squeaked, horrified.

"Oh, yeah. They'll just love seeing all those photos of you in a hot-pink thong and push up bustier."

Kurt gaped at him. "You- I- But none of that happened! I've only been to Scandals _one_ time, and I sure as hell wasn't wearing that!"

"Ah, but when I get done photo-shopping you, it'll be my word against yours, and everyone will be so much happier with my version. What was it you sang again? 'Bump & Grind'? Yeah, that was a night to remember."

"You … oh, you _suck_!"

Sebastian winked. "Only if you ask nicely. See you 'round, Kurt. Say hello to Blaine for me."

And with that, he stood and moved back up to the still-empty counter. Speaking quickly to the cashier, he accepted a sheet of paper the man gave him and scribbled something down - his phone number and a come-on of some sort, Kurt was sure - then folded it up and handed it back, flashing a smarmy wink and a grin at Kurt as he hurried out of the shop.

Kurt just sat there for a while, unable to decide what to make of the encounter. It had been unlike any exchange he and Sebastian had ever had before. It had been civil and mature and … hell, almost _pleasant_.

"Kurt, break's over," his manager called, breaking Kurt from his thoughts. He jumped up and knocked back the last swallow of his coffee, tossing the container in the trash as he moved to take over the barista station.

"Hey, Kurt," the cashier said. "The hot guy who just left asked me to give you this."

To his surprise, it was the paper Sebastian had been writing on. It was folded at least three times and when Kurt unfurled the page, he gasped. Tucked inside the last fold was a fifty dollar bill. Kurt gaped at the money for a few seconds, then finally checked out the writing on the page.

'My contribution to bettering the Great White Way. Pay me back with a ticket to your first show. Otherwise, I'll tell everyone I tucked this into your pretty pink thong while you were giving me a lap dance.'

Face flushing beet red, Kurt's fist clenched around the note and the money. Who did that guy think he was? Ducking out from behind the counter, he dashed for the door, but it was too late. Sebastian, his enemy, his tormentor, his benefactor, his … _friend_ … was long gone.

Staring down at the cash again, Kurt heaved a bewildered sigh, but then a smile slipped over his lips. He wasn't sure at all why Sebastian had done such a thing, for _him_ of all people, but for the first time in a long time Kurt felt like his dreams had not died with that rejection letter from NYADA.

Fifty dollars wasn't much, but it was a start, and the entirely unexpected faith it represented meant so much more than just a dollar figure

"Look out, New York," he whispered, tucking the money into his pants pocket. "Kurt Hummel is on his way."

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**Because I think Sebastian loves Kurt's wit and sass far too much to want to see him get stuck in Lima. **

**Comments?**


	4. Snowflake

**I've never tried Kid Klaine before, so I thought I'd give it a try. Somehow I always imagine wee Kurt to be a kid with a big imagination who made up his own games and should have had lots of friends - but probably didn't. And Blaine to be that kid who's happy to play any game his friends suggest, sure that it will be fun.**

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They stared up at the cloudy sky with more patience than two young boys should rightly possess. They'd been outside for nearly an hour, just sitting bundled up side by side on the wooden steps in front of Kurt's house, waiting.

"Are you sure it's going to be today?" Blaine whispered, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might ruin things.

"Uh huh," Kurt replied softly. "The clouds are pink and gray today, and extra thick and fluffy, like a pillow. Daddy says that means snow. He told me this morning that he could smell it in the air."

Both boys instinctively sniffed at the frozen air, trying to capture that elusive scent.

Blaine chewed his bottom lip, gazing hopefully at the sky. "And whichever one of us sees it first really gets to claim the whole thing?"

A smile tilted Kurt's rosy lips. "That's the rules. Daddy and me do it every year, but he had to go to work today so you get to do it with me instead."

"And it's really okay if I win?"

Kurt clasped his friend's small cold hand with both of his own stylishly mittened ones. "I'll even let you wear one of my favorite tiaras if you do."

Blaine's golden-hazel eyes widened, sparkling with joy. Kurt _never_ let other people wear those beautiful faux-jewel crowns, the ones his grandmother sent all the way from England on every birthday and Christmas.

"Really?"

Kurt smiled and slipped his right arm around the other boy's narrow shoulders. "Sure. Know why? Cause you're my best friend and I never had a best friend to do stuff like this with before. I'm really glad you're here."

Blaine grinned back, showing off the space where his front teeth should have been. Normally Blaine was really self-conscious about that gap, but today he didn't even care. Because he was with his own very bestest friend, and Kurt said he was handsome even with weird looking teeth. "Me, too."

Snuggling closer into his friend's warm embrace, Blaine returned to studying the sky. This was Blaine's first winter in Ohio, the six-year-old having started first grade at Kurt's school last fall when his family had moved from California for Dad's new job. Even though Kurt was a year older and in the 2nd grade already, they had met on a swing-set during the first day's morning recess and the two of them had been as thick as thieves (that's what Blaine's mom called it) ever since.

And now he got to be part of Kurt's very own special wintertime ritual!

All of a sudden, Kurt gasped loudly, startling Blaine from his thoughts as he squirmed out of the blanket and began jumping up and down, pointing his finger. "There it is, Blaine! I see it! The first one!"

"Where?" Blaine asked breathlessly, trying to follow Kurt's direction. It wasn't easy when he was bouncing around like Tigger and squealing with joy, but Blaine tried hard. And then he squeaked and clapped his hands. "I see it! Oh, and there's another one! Oh, Kurt, there's hundreds of them!"

"It's snowing!" they crowed together, clasping each other in a happy embrace as the promising clouds began dropping snow faster and thicker and it started to stick and gather on the ground around them.

Within minutes there was a frosty crust everywhere and soon the grass and sidewalks and cars began to disappear from view under a blanket of white. Kurt's mother had come out on the porch to see what all the screaming was about, and she stood there watching with a smile as the two little boys whooped and danced and celebrated the first snow of winter.

Then, abruptly, Blaine stopped his wild frenzy and stared wide-eyed at Kurt. "Oh, that means you won."

Kurt stopped dancing too. He was grinning, but then he noticed that Blaine looked a little crest-fallen and the smile fell away, becoming replaced with something thoughtful. "Mom?" he yelled, even though she was just twenty feet away. "We need another crown, and Blaine needs a royal robe! Can I go and get them?"

She smiled. "I'll take care of it. Wait right here." She paused. "Do you want the gold one with the green stones?"

Kurt nodded enthusiastically. "The one that looks like his eyes!"

As she went back inside to get the necessary accoutrements, Blaine looked to Kurt in confusion. "How come I need a robe?"

"Cause this is my kingdom, and that means I can do what I want, and I want to share. Mommy says that kings don't always have queens. I asked once and she said sometimes they can marry whoever they want and just have a concert instead."

"A concert?" he said, looking even more puzzled.

Kurt shrugged. "I think that means they sing a lot of songs when they get married or something. You wanna be my royal concert?"

"Sure! I love to sing! And being kings with you would be the bestest thing ever!"

"Yay!" Kurt crowed. Then, beaming, he scooped a handful of snow and pitched it into Blaine's face.

Kurt screeched and took off running when Blaine grabbed some snow in return and they happily chased each other around the yard, trampling up the fresh snow with their enthusiasm until Mrs. Hummel returned.

She clapped her hands for attention. "Come here, boys." As the huffing, red-faced children stumbled up to her, she walked down the steps and quickly draped an apron around each of their necks, letting the material flow down their backs. "Your royal robes. Now, as Queen Mother of the royal kingdom of Hummelanderia, I hereby crown you Kings of the Winter Snow."

As Kurt pulled off his stylish winter hat and sketched a bow, his mother placed a silver tiara studded with large fake sapphires on top of his rumpled hair. She then kissed him on both cheeks and smiled. "Your Majesty." Doing the same ritual for Blaine with a faux gold and emerald tiara, she kissed him as well and said, "The snow is yours, my dears. Rule it wisely."

Grinning broadly, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and said, "And now we get to sing! Right, Mom?"

"Sing?"

"Yeah. You know, like you said? Because I saw the first snowflake, I'm the actual king and so that makes Blaine my concert," he explained.

Mrs. Hummel did her best not to laugh at this very serious declaration. "I think you mean con_sort_, darling. That's what they sometimes call a person who is the husband or wife of a reigning king or queen."

"You mean we don't get to sing?" Blaine asked, sounding so disappointed that Kurt immediately turned and gave him a hug.

Two sets of pleading eyes fixed on Mrs. Hummel and she melted at once. "Of course you can sing if you want to. Just try not to disturb the neighbors, okay?"

"Okay," the promised in tandem.

"And don't stay out here too long. I have hot chocolate and fresh baked cookies inside."

Kurt licked his bright red lips. "Yummy! We'll be in soon."

Grabbing Blaine's hand, Kurt galloped him willingly across the lawn and over to a low stone wall that separated his front yard from his neighbor's. The two boys scrambled up onto the wide, flat structure, standing taller than all of the fluffy white landscape around them.

"We can sing here. Everybody needs to know that we're claiming the first snow of winter in the name of Hummelanderia."

"Okay," Blaine agreed happily.

There was a quick consultation, then loudly, joyously, and not altogether tunefully, the two kings of winter treated their white-blanketed neighborhood to a rousing rendition of "Frosty the Snowman".

And with that song, a new winter tradition had officially begun.

**THE END**

**For whatever reason, I really loved this one. It practically wrote itself. - Comments?**


	5. Flame

**Glee doesn't really do action/adventure, so I thought a little danger and mayhem with Furt would be a fun thing to write. And no, I don't mean that facetiously. They really are in trouble! **

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The flames seemed alive and hungry, as soon the room was engulfed in violent heat that seemed to slap at Kurt, striking the exposed portion of his skin with pain like the cracking tip of a bullwhip. The sensation was intense, and as the thick black smoke filled him, making his throat burn and his lungs ache, he wished with all his might that he could turn around and run back out into the cool night air. But turning back was not an option. Somewhere in this inferno, hidden from his tearing smoke-blurred eyes, was his brother.

Kurt threw up his arms in an attempt to protect his eyes as a section of the roof gave way, falling to the ground in front of him and splintering in a hail of sparks that stung his exposed skin anew. He had removed his shirt and soaked it in one of the puddles formed by the fire hoses outside before facing the flames, using the wet material as a shield for his head and face, but the few bare inches of skin from ribs to hips felt as if they were slowly being broiled right off of his body. He had heard the firemen shouting at him to stop, but they were all busy helping other people and battling the flames. Finn was in here and somebody had to help him before it was too late.

"Finn!" he shouted frantically, voice hoarse and rough. He was forced to stop a moment and cough as the thick smoke choked him. "Oh my God, please don't be dead." he begged, feeling his way forward slowly, afraid he would miss the other man's body in the wreckage of the burning apartment.

It was a small building, few residents and building safety regulations that were a long way from being up to code, but it had been all Finn could afford and at this moment, Kurt wasn't sure if he should be cursing his luck, or thanking his lucky stars that he had chosen this week to pay his step brother a visit from New York.

Right now, trapped in flames and virtually blind, it seemed a toss-up.

Why the hell had Finn run back inside a burning building? Kurt felt his eyes streaming tears that were not entirely smoke related as he once again shouted his brother's name.

The fire had started virtually without warning. Just the agitated wail of the cheap fire alarm out in the hallway giving warning to what was about to happen. Kurt and Finn had been on their way out with all of the other residents, assuming a false alarm – Finn had told him that had happened three times already in the two months he had lived here – and that they'd all be allowed back inside in a few minutes.

That comforting fantasy had vanished when gout of flame had exploded from behind a door, cutting the startled building residents off from the safety of the stair case. Amidst all the screaming and frightened chatter, someone had yelled that there was another staircase on the opposite end and they had hurried towards it. Behind them, another explosion had sounded, blowing the cheap apartment door right off its hinges and all sense of decorum had vanished as everyone began running for the promised exit.

Kurt could not even imagine what sort of material must have been inside that apartment to cause such a frighteningly quick and hot ignition but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out safely.

At least, that was all that had mattered until Finn had inexplicably decided to charge back inside without any explanation beyond, "The Michaelsons!" It had not escaped Kurt's notice that three other brave souls had also ventured past the flames at that frantic exclamation. He had understood when coughing, gasping rescuers had started to emerge, one with a woman and three others with small children in their arms, just as the fire department had finally arrived.

Now the whole building was engulfed in flames and Finn was the only person who had failed to reemerge.

The firemen were frantically working to extinguish the blaze, but no one had dared to go back inside when pieces of the roof had begun to collapse and the heat grew still more intense. No one except Kurt Hummel, whose gut instinct told him he would rather face death along with his brother than go back to Lima and inform a grieving Carole that he had allowed her son to die without so much as trying to save him.

She would not blame him, but Kurt knew that he would blame himself.

Coughing and choking, Kurt pushed further through the apartment, doing his best to avoid the burning remains of furniture and destroyed possessions. He was not even sure he was searching in the right place but one of the other rescuers had claimed to see Finn working his way toward the last apartment on the 2nd floor. Desperation filled him as he realized that he could easily have passed right by Finn in the impenetrable blackness of the smoke.

He wouldn't find him, and they would both die. A sob wrenched from his throat at the knowledge that he had failed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, Carole," he whispered raspily, hoping they would forgive him.

Suddenly, a shocked yelp burst free from Kurt as he tripped over something, falling headlong onto a so-far undamaged sofa. He had fallen over a large obstruction, and Kurt groped back to find it, hands grasping and squeezing with giddy relief around the familiar flannel shirt and blue jeans shirt of his missing brother.

"Finn!" he croaked, feeling his way up the body to his brother's chest. It was moving! "Oh, thank God."

Wiping his eyes frantically, desperate to see Finn's face, Kurt swallowed hard. There was a freely bleeding wound over Finn's right eye and his hands and face were covered in black soot. It was impossible to tell through the red and gold glow of flame whether the reddened condition of his skin was due to burns or simple reflection.

As his hands kept moving, he realized that Finn had his arms clenched tightly around a bundle of some sort. Kurt gasped and nearly fell backward from shock when the bundle started wailing. Shit, a baby! That's why Finn had braved the flames. He knew that somewhere in this hellhole, an innocent young life was at risk.

Kurt couldn't blame him for what he had done, but right at his moment, yelping as a spray of sparks dropped down from the ceiling and alerted him to its potential collapse, he wished that he could. God damn it, why did he have to get the brother who was so fucking noble?

"Help!" Kurt shouted, realizing that his chances of lifting and carrying an unconscious Finn Hudson were not good. And that was without a fragile little infant in tow. "We're alive in here! Somebody help us!"

Nothing. Either no one could hear or they were unable to get through the flames to answer him. Looking around him, again swiping tears from his stinging eyes, Kurt's gaze fell upon a boarded up window across the room. Stumbling up, he made his way past licks of flame and over to the cracked frame. The boards were stacked over the top of one another, a bad attempt at covering the broken glass of a cracked window. It wouldn't be easy to pry them loose but if he could do it then there was a chance he could save them all.

Lifting the wet shirt he had dropped in his fall, Kurt wished hard for strength and luck and bundled the protective material around his hands and arms, using it this time to shield him from the red-hot, badly splintered wood and pulling with all of his might.

He fell back, losing his grip on the stubborn boards, and cursed. One had moved a bit but it had not come loose. Ignoring his surroundings, Kurt tried again. There was nothing else he could do.

It took several more tries before two of the stubborn boards finally broke free. Cool night air gushed in through the hole and for a moment, all Kurt could do was breathe, sucking in the clean night air. Then, glancing behind him, his eyes widened in horror. The fresh infusion of oxygen was drawing the fire closer! Greedy flames were creeping quickly toward his still unconscious brother.

"Help!" he shouted again desperately.

Thankfully, this time, somebody heard his shout. "Over here!" a voice cried out, and four firemen came running into sight below.

"Help, hurry!" Kurt begged. "My brother is unconscious and he has a baby with him."

The men wasted no time. Gathering a rescue ladder and bringing one of the hoses around to what Kurt now realized must be the back of the apartment building, they sprayed the outside surface to cool it down, as one of the men scrambled up the ladder, telling Kurt to get back as he broke out what remained of the window and boards with precise movements of a fire axe.

Kurt had run back to Finn, gathering the screaming child, a little girl he could now see, in his arms and moving back to the window. He handed the girl out to the fireman, who ran her down the ladder while one of his fellow rescuers took his place.

Reluctantly, Kurt allowed himself to leave Finn and be carried down the ladder, his entire body suddenly shaking too badly to even consider making it down safely by himself. An oxygen mask was immediately slapped over his nose and mouth and a blanket tossed around his shoulders as he was pulled back, his streaming eyes unable to stop staring up at the window leading to the apartment where Finn still remained in danger.

Finally, after what felt like hours, two firemen carefully transported Finn out of the opening and carefully pulled him free of the building, not a moment too soon. More fire-fighters immediately began dousing the opening with water, combating the flames that had already begun to lick outward, as if grasping for the victims they had lost.

As he was moved out to the street and laid down on a blanket to be worked on by paramedics, Finn suddenly began to move. Kurt tried to pull away from the man holding the oxygen to his face, desperate to ascertain Finn's condition, but he could not. He had started coughing badly and now he found that he had no strength left to fight. His lungs felt as though the flames had been breathed inside to continue rampaging inside of him. The wrenching coughs also sent spears of pain through his left shoulder.

"Take it easy there, son," a friendly voice said, holding him in place as he tried once again to rise in spite of his difficulty.

"Is he," he choked out. "My brother. Is Finn . . .?"

The man smiled. "He's all right. He got some burns and a good sized knot on his forehead where a piece of falling roof apparently hit him, and he's breathed in a lot of smoke, but once we get him to the hospital I think he'll be fine. You and your brother are brave men, to do what you did."

With that news, Kurt stopped struggling, fresh tears that had nothing to do with the stinging debris in his eyes washing down his soot blackened face.

"You need to keep still for a little while," the man continued. "You've also got smoke inhalation and some minor burns, plus you've managed to dislocate your shoulder. How did that happen?"

"What?" he croaked, having no memory of that. "It is? I don't know. I was pulling at the boards on that window. They wouldn't come off so I just kept pulling and pulling."

The man nodded, efficiently attaching a sling to Kurt's arm to keep him from moving it until it could be seen by a doctor. "My guess is that you pulled so hard at some point that you managed to yank this shoulder right out of its socket."

"I didn't even feel it," he murmured, allowing himself to be maneuvered into the back of a waiting ambulance. "Are you sure Finn is okay? Maybe I should stay with him."

"He's got his own ride. They'll probably beat us to the hospital," the paramedic assured him, stopping to speak into the phone he had been using to consult the hospital.

An IV had been started in Kurt's uninjured arm, for what purpose he was not sure, and he began to drift off in spite of himself. "Is Finn okay?" he mumbled one last time, not even managing to stay awake long enough to hear the repeated reassurance.

A few hours later, Kurt blinked; squinting confusedly at the bright white walls of a hospital bed.

"Hey, Kurt. I thought you were planning to sleep the whole day away."

Turning his head to the right, Kurt found himself looking at his brother's familiar grin. He was occupying the room's other bed, currently propped up and shoveling a tray full of food into his mouth.

Finn went on, "You had surgery to fix your shoulder, but the doctor says you did fine and won't have any complications."

"Are you all right?" Kurt whispered, his voice a soft rasp, wincing as the words seemed to work their way out of his throat with sharp claws.

"I'm fine, thanks to you. If you hadn't come in after me, I don't know if I would have made it."

Kurt noted that Finn's voice, too, sounded raspy and rough, though he did not appear to be having much trouble talking. "You really scared me," he grated out. "If I could reach you right now, I'd smack the shit out of you."

An expression of regret washed over Finn's expressive face as he absently rubbed his fingers over a white bandage glaring out in stark contrast against the reddened skin of his face. He looked as though he'd been out in the sun too long.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "I didn't think. I suddenly remembered that those kids were home with a babysitter tonight and I…I just acted. Guess that wasn't too smart, but I thought there'd be enough time to get them out and still get out myself. It almost worked but a chunk of the roof fell down and clobbered me just as I was coming out with Jenny. That's all I knew until I woke up here and the doctor told me what happened. I still can't believe you followed me in there, Kurt."

"I had to," Kurt whispered, coughing a bit as his lungs protested the speech. "All I could think about was what I would say to Carole if you got yourself killed."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. I understood the moment I saw that little girl. I'm just glad you're okay," he said honestly, feeling some of the tightness leave his chest.

Finn smiled warmly. "I'm glad you're okay too, little brother. I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

Feeling tears prick at his eyes once again, Kurt cleared his aching throat and changed the subject. "Did anyone call Dad and Carole?"

At this question, Finn laughed. "Yeah. I talked to them just a few minutes ago. Mom was caught between being really proud and really pissed off. Burt was mostly just worried that you hadn't woken up yet. They're on their way. Should be here in the morning. I think they want to fuss over us, or maybe just disown us both for being stupid. It was hard to tell."

Kurt nodded, able to imagine that phone call easily.

They rested together in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Kurt was on the verge of going back to sleep when he heard Finn say again, "Thanks, Kurt."

Blue eyes filled with more emotion than he could express in words, Kurt simply smiled back at his brother. His head was pounding, his shoulder throbbed and his lungs ached with every breath he took, but he had never felt better in his entire life.

**The End**

**Because you know Kurt really would face a burning building for someone he loves. - Comments?**


	6. Formal

**I can't ever ship these two romantically. Too much water under the bridge, and Kurt still gives off a slightly uneasy vibe - not scared just uncomfortable - whenever they're together. However, I don't think Kurt would give up on someone he'd made up his mind to be friends with. Post "On My Way".**

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Kurt had always supposed that being friends with Dave Karofsky would be a challenge. After all, they had been enemies for a long time before becoming tentative allies. It wasn't until recently that they had decided to give actual friendship a shot, but somehow, even with all their colorful shared history Kurt had not expected it to be quite so awkward.

They both tried, hard. But they just didn't have all that much to talk about when it came right down to it. Every conversation started with the usual pleasantries, "Hi."…"How's it going?"…"How are you holding up?"…"Anything new with you?"…"How's your dad?" and then petered out.

Stilted. Formal. Absurdly Polite. Soon they would both be shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, struggling to come up with something, anything, to chat about.

It was a little easier if there was food in front of them, so they usually met at a restaurant of some sort. Food meant that they didn't have to look at each other as often, or spend the entire time attempting to make conversation. Dave could eat his own weight in fast food, given half a chance, and while Kurt did not care to stuff himself so recklessly, he was still a growing teenager and always up for a snack.

They had started meeting every couple of weeks after Dave got out of the hospital. Kurt had suggested it, knowing that Dave badly needed friends around him right now, and also knowing that he didn't have very many people he could count on.

He had hoped that as they grew used to each other things would get easier, but so far it was still pretty uncomfortable. There were just too many topics that felt like taboo.

"How's school?" felt insensitive and was now rather silly since they had both graduated.

"Met any cute guys lately?" just made them both uncomfortable.

"Have you read the latest Vogue?" was completely pointless with Dave.

"How 'bout them Buckeyes?" was equally pointless for himself.

It would be so much easier, Kurt thought, if they could just find _something_ in common. They were both gay, but Dave still wasn't very comfortable with that fact. They had both made it over the rocky road of high school, but their very different experiences made that less than ideal to commiserate over. They both had great supportive dads, but how long could two teenage guys realistically chat about their fathers?

Still, they kept trying. The one thing they honestly did have in common was that they were both unusually stubborn young men.

"Hey, Kurt, have you listened to the latest Godsmack track? I downloaded it last week and it was awesome. The guitar solo on the bridge totally kicks ass!"

"Um, no, I haven't heard it yet. I think Finn downloaded it, though. Maybe I'll ask him if I can borrow it this weekend." _Yeah, right. Maybe if he'd gone prematurely deaf by then._ "Lady Gaga's new song is great though. And I also just bought the soundtrack for 'Jekyll & Hyde'."

"Oh, that's . . . nice." A long pause. "That's a play, right?"

"A musical. Based on the classic novel by Robert Louis Stevenson."

"Right. I knew that. Don't think I ever read it, though."

"Actually, you did. You and I both had Mrs. Monroe for Junior English and she made all of her classes read that book for an assignment."

"Oh. Right."

Silence fell again.

Okay, fine. Musically, they were worlds apart. Closer academically, but who really wanted to sit around discussing algebra, which Kurt had never understood, and old English teachers who were apparently already forgotten.

"Given any more thought toward where you might attend college? I remember you telling me you wanted to be a sports agent … um, that one time."

"I'm looking into it, but I'm taking a year off before I start college. Dad thinks it'll be good for me to travel a little and experience more of life before I make up my mind for sure about what I want to do. It's been a real bug up his ass ever since … well, you know."

"That's not a bad idea, actually. I was thinking that I might do something like that myself. You know, since NYADA didn't work out for me."

"Yeah, I was really sorry when I heard about that."

"Thanks. I was pretty upset, but … c'est la vie, I suppose. I'll just have to find a new dream."

"You'll be great at it, whatever it is. Broadway, or fashion modeling or whatever it is you decide on. You'll do better without Hudson's yappy little girlfriend calling the shots for you anyway."

"Rachel's not so bad."

"Sure. I spent one week with her in Glee during Junior year and by the end I was ready to chew my arm off just to get away from her. Trust me, this is what my dad would call a blessing in disguise. And you shouldn't give up on theater or whatever, just because that school didn't take you. You always followed your own rules before, right? You can do anything you want to do."

"So can you, Dave. Look how far you've already come these last few months."

"Yeah... I guess. Hey, you gonna eat that last slice of pizza?"

Kurt smiled and gestured for him to take it. Embarrassment was another roadblock it was going to take them some time to get past. Neither one of them could take an honest compliment without blushing and changing the subject. Still, this was the longest conversation that they had managed so far. That had to count as progress, right?

"I have to get going," he said, feeling surprisingly reluctant to close the door he had finally managed to pry open a crack. "I'm sorry to eat and run but Mercedes is leaving for California in three days and I promised to help her pick out some new wardrobe staples."

"I understand. You'll want to have whatever time you can with her. It's not easy losing your best friend."

Kurt felt a pang of deep sorrow at that all-too-casual comment, remembering how Dave's best friend of three years had dropped him like a hot rock upon learning of his sexuality.

"Want to come along? Mercedes will probably make you tote the bags if you do, but I promise it will be fun anyway."

"I don't know. I don't want to be in the way."

"You wouldn't be!"

"I don't have a lot of money on me, either. I wasn't planning on doing much today."

"That's okay. You can just window-shop. Or if you do want some help picking out a few things, who do you know that's better than me at being fabulous on a budget?"

That got a laugh. "Nobody. You sure Mercedes wouldn't mind, though? She's probably hoping to have you all to herself."

"She wouldn't anyway. I'll be sharing her with Sam, Tina and Artie, actually. So why not come along? The more the merrier!" Standing up, Kurt dragged the still-reluctant Dave out of his chair. "Come on. You'll never move forward if you don't take the first step. Give my friends a chance. They're good people, and I'm sure they'd be willing to give you a second chance too."

"Well, okay. Just don't leave me alone with them. That Tina chick is kinda scary sometimes."

"Just duck behind Artie's chair if she gets too fierce for you," Kurt joked. "He won't mind."

He felt a rush of satisfaction when the other boy laughed.

As they walked out of the pizza parlor together, Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and Kurt kept his own arms crossed against his body, recognizing that the other boy was fighting the desire to try and hold his hand. Dave's awkward crush still hadn't quite died out and that was another source of mutual discomfort, but Kurt just pretended not to notice.

They were slowly moving past that as well. Kurt was not sure he and Dave would ever quite reach the point of being casual friends, but every time they hung out like this brought them just a little bit closer.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in getting a manicure with the rest of us."

"Abrams too?"

"Naturally. He uses his hands for transportation. He's smart enough keep them in good shape at all times."

"_Huh_."

"Is that a yes?"

"You're gonna take away my gay card if I don't do this, aren't you?"

"Well, I might have to, though it would be a shame after it took you so long to start carrying it."

There was a long pause, then Dave ventured, "Are guys into bear cubs with manicures?"

"Of course! Why? Do you have your eye on someone?"

"No! I was just asking. Jeez."

Kurt hadn't meant to sound quite so eager, but the timid question had set his match-maker senses tingling. Oh, and now Dave was mumbling and refusing to make eye contact. That was promising!

"Guys who look big and tough, but also take good care of their appearance and hygiene can be like a honeycomb to a swarm of bees," he said casually. "If you were thinking of going to Scandals or someplace like that. Just saying."

"Think so?" he replied, sounding more hopeful than he probably meant to.

Kurt squashed the urge to celebrate openly. "I'll prove it to you. Let me know when you want to go, and I'll give you a make-over just for the occasion. I've had people literally beg for the privilege of a personalized Kurt Hummel make-over."

"Beg you to stop the torture, you mean? I believe that."

"So, is that a yes?"

"Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?"

Kurt laughed joyfully. "Why do _I_ have a feeling you _won't_?"

Dave reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of Kurt's SUV and they were on their way to the mall. Glancing over as the larger boy began to play with the radio stations, searching for something obnoxious and ear-splitting, no doubt, Kurt smiled to himself. They might not ever have the easiest relationship or very much in common at all, but they had come miles from where they had started and both of them were trying hard.

Friendships had been built on far less than that.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	7. Companion

**Tina tends to be used on-screen as a supporter of other characters more than a character in her own right, so I decided to use that trait to look at Kurt through Tina's eyes. **

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Tina Cohen-Chang was that girl who was friendly with everyone, but not really _friends_ with many.

It wasn't that she didn't like people, or that they didn't like her. Indeed, ask almost anyone in the Glee Club and they would say that, yes, of course they were friends. But somehow when it came right down to it, if she wasn't the person to issue an invitation, organize an event, or make the first move with a call or text, people tended to forget all about her. They were always happy to hear from her and she knew that nobody was excluding her deliberately.

It was just hard to be heard in a room full of shouting voices.

The adjectives people always used to describe her were "sweet", "nice" or even "Goth", even though she hadn't actually embraced that look and style in nearly a year. She hardly even got the Gleek label from most, because – with the exception of her boyfriend - even her fellow singers tended to forget she was among them most of the time.

The other exception was Kurt Hummel.

Mercedes and Rachel vied for the title of Best Friend simply because they had more in common with Kurt on the surface, but Tina was the one he preferred to go shopping with, the one he exchanged snarky little text messages with in class, and his first choice when it came to working out the song arrangements and choreography he taped for his private portfolio. Most people didn't even know that collection of MP3s, DVDs and clothing sketches even existed. Just her and Brittany, who surprisingly had never told anyone after Kurt asked them to keep his secret. Brittany was another of Mr. Schuester's 'invisibles' as Kurt had privately named them, and always had interesting suggestions for new dances they could do when the three of them got together.

When Kurt had been at Dalton Academy for half of his Junior year, Tina was the person he kept in closest contact with. She had guessed that he was lonely there, especially at first when he had been boarding at Dalton while his newly extended family had been shopping for a bigger home for the four of them.

Kurt would call her sometimes, apologizing for his hasty exit from McKinley, and Tina would apologize in turn for not having spoken to the Principal about all the physical abuse she had witnessed from Karofsky toward Kurt. She had done so after the fact, but it had been too late to do any good by that time, especially after Mr. Figgins retook the office. They would reassure one another that there was no blame to be leveled and then they would chat about other, happier things until both of them felt better.

Kurt would mourn the lack of imagination in the uniforms he was forced to wear every day and Tina would tell him stories of all the interesting gossip at McKinley. He would fill her in on the latest developments in his crush on Blaine, whom Tina privately thought must be an idiot if he couldn't see what an incredible catch was right in front of his eyes, and she would gush and gripe about how wonderful and frustrating by turns Mike Chang could be. Kurt was the only person she knew who never got tired of hearing her go on about how amazing Mike was.

When Kurt returned to McKinley, it was as if he had never left. The two of them just slotted back into each others lives like parts in a zipper.

It was Tina that Kurt went to for help when he was facing the biggest audition of his life so far, and she had been glad to assist even when she discovered that he wanted to do a scene from her least favorite musical of all time. And Kurt was the one Tina had turned to after she was forced to miss a day of school and sewing in favor of the mild concussion she had from falling into the mall fountain. He had jumped in with no questions asked, even though he wasn't officially part of the costume committee.

Of all the people she had met during her high school years, all those friends she had lived, laughed and cried with inside the New Directions choir room, Kurt was the person Tina could most easily imagine still calling up for gossip and fashion advice twenty years down the road. She somehow knew that he would not forget her or allow her to drift too far away.

The two of them were true companions, two people who would never require loud spectacle and constant reassurance to know that they were friends.

They simply were, and always would be.

**THE END**

**For Karen, the Kurt to my Tina. - Comments?**


	8. Move

**I witnessed the rather entertaining spectacle of a friend getting her toddler's hair cut, and couldn't resist putting that experience on Burt's shoulders.**

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"I need you to hold real still, buddy. It isn't gonna hurt, I promise."

"NO!" Kurt shouted, holding his arms over his head and glaring evilly at the mean man who had sprayed him with water and was now trying to hurt his pretty hair.

"It's just a little trim, son. Nothing to worry about. Be a good boy and don't move and it'll be over before you know it." Burt coaxed, prying the boy's arms down out of the way. "Don't you want me to tell Mommy you were a good boy?"

"No!" he said again, but slightly less vehemently this time.

Burt smiled at him and tickled a finger under his chin, making the boy laugh. "I don't believe that. You're just a little scared 'cause you've never done this before, but it's not a scary thing, Kurt. Just a few minutes and a few snips of the big, shiny scissors, and you'll be a whole new man."

"Man?" he repeated, looking skeptical.

Trying to be helpful, the barber asked, "Don't you want people to think you're a big, grown-up man like your daddy?"

Kurt took a long look at his father and abruptly started wailing, protecting his precious hair with both arms again.

"Way to go, Jack," Burt grumbled, self-consciously slapping the baseball cap he'd stuffed into his back pocket back over the rapidly thinning, buzz-cut hair that had so threatened his child. "Kurt! Kurt, it's okay. He didn't mean he was gonna cut your hair to look like mine. He just meant that you're a big boy and get to have your first big-boy haircut today."

Still sniffling, lip wobbling, Kurt thought this over for a minute before cautiously lowering his arms.

"That's my boy," Burt praised. "And I tell you what. You sit real still and don't squirm around while the nice man is working, and I'll take you over to the shoe store afterward."

Kurt's eyes lit up at the mention of his favorite store. Burt could not figure out why, but Kurt could wander up and down the aisles full of shoes all day, trying on different ones. Boy shoes, girl shoes, sneakers, boots, loafers, flip-flops, he didn't seem to have any bias at all when it came to footwear.

"Maybe even get some ice cream from that place you like next door after we find you the right pair of shoes to go with your terrific new haircut," he continued, not even caring that he was bribing his child for good behavior, a thing he had sworn up and down that he would never do before he had actually experienced fatherhood.

Kurt smiled charmingly at the barber. "Cut now," he agreed.

The barber smiled as his friend's words managed to calm the squirming little boy in his chair enough for him to get in a few quick snips with his scissors. When Burt had brought the nearly 2-year-old in today, Jack had honestly thought for a minute that the boy was a girl. The thick, silky, reddish-brown waves were falling into the child's eyes and trailing nearly down to his shoulders.

"We should've done this earlier, but his mom gets a little sentimental about stuff like this," Burt explained, looking a little embarrassed at the length when Jack held out a lock that he had just cut off and suggested that they take it home for Kurt's mother to keep. "She couldn't even bear to watch today."

Jack smiled. "I understand. My wife was the same way with our oldest. Don't you worry about a thing. He's in good hands."

It wasn't easy for an energetic toddler to sit in one place and not shift and squirm (much) for the duration of this ordeal, but Kurt did his best and soon the man with the snippers was holding up a mirror for him to look into.

"What do you think, Kurt? You think that's a handsome little fellow right there?"

Studying his new reflection and looking a bit surprised by the sight of himself with short, neatly trimmed locks, Kurt smiled. "Han'some!" he chirped back, flashing the man a sunny smile.

The adults laughed and Burt shook his head. "Figures you'd pick up on that one."

"You were a good customer, Kurt," Jack told him brushing away the loose hairs from his neck and carefully removing the plastic cape from around his body before lifting him down from the tall booster chair. "I think you deserve to pick something from the prize box for being so good."

Kurt's blue eyes lit up greedily as he was led to a decorative plastic chest in the back corner of the small shop, opened up to reveal all manner of treasures. Balls, coloring books, small stuffed animals and a wealth of other tempting items.

"Just one, Kurt," Burt warned as Kurt pawed through the choices. When the boy held up a cheap imitation Barbie in a blue party dress, an inquisitive look on his little face, Burt shook his head. "Not that one. That's a little girl's toy."

He looked a bit disappointed, chubby fingers stroking the sparkly gown for a moment, then carefully placed her back inside and continued to search. Finally, a crow of triumph announced that he'd found the perfect item.

"What you got there?" Burt asked, thankful that Kurt's search had kept him busy long enough to pay Jack and make an appointment for himself for next week.

Kurt proudly held up a black plastic tow truck with a little movable cable hook on the back. "Daddy!"

Burt laughed. It did look an awful lot like the vehicle he used when somebody called the tire shop asking for road-side assistance. "Well, there you go! Next thing I know, you'll be wanting the keys to the big one."

The boy just grinned at him, moving his new possession around the shiny polished floor around the barber chair, making cute little motor noises as he carefully steered around the obstacle course of fallen hair clumps in his path.

The two men chatted for a few minutes while the child played, but then Burt was distracted by a tug at his pant leg. Smiling angelically, Kurt help up his arms, one hand still tightly clutching his new toy.

"Guess it must be time to go," Burt chuckled, picking his son up and settling him on his hip as he shook hands with his friend. "Thanks, Jack. I'll see you next week."

"You guys have a good day."

Kurt smiled at him, waving the little truck in the air. "Fank you!"

Charmed, the barber tweaked his tiny button nose. "You're very welcome. You have fun with that."

Kurt nodded, switching hands as Burt settled him more securely in his arms and driving his new truck over the hills and valleys of his father's shoulders and back as they left the shop.

"What do you think we should do now, Slugger?"

"Shoes!" Kurt crowed, laughing in delight at the prospect.

Burt sighed, but it was a contented sound. He'd brought this on himself and honestly, he didn't really mind. "Deal's a deal. Maybe we should buy a pair for Mommy, since she didn't get to come with us today."

Kurt nodded happily. If there was one thing he liked even more than trying on shoes of his own, it was looking at all the beautiful lady-shoes with their shiny surfaces and colorful fabrics and pointy heels.

Patting Burt's arm, he suggested. "Sc'eam for Daddy."

Burt grinned, giving him a light swat on his seat. "You got my number, kid. Just don't tell Mommy we got ice cream. I'm supposed to be on a diet."

Kurt solemnly raised a finger to his lips and went, "Shhh."

Burt somehow managed a serious nod, giving the little boy a hug. "All right, then. Sounds like we've got a plan. Let's get moving."

"Vroom!" Kurt shouted happily, waving his truck.

The joint laughter of father and son rang through the quiet street. Their 'guys day out' was off to a wonderful start.

**THE END**

**Aww, you just know they were buddies even then. - Comments?**


	9. Silver

**The show needs more brotherly love, and since they won't give it to us I decided to indulge myself in the form of a future-fic.**

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Three men stood side by side, looking with eyes both admiring and critical at the décor of the empty reception hall surrounding them, unknowingly giving the impression of stair-steps in the way they had chosen to stand.

To the farthest right was a short man with silver-speckled black curls and metal framed glasses over bright golden-green eyes that gleamed with satisfaction at the sight. Next to him, a medium-tall slender man with sharply handsome features, strawberry-blonde hair – he refused to admit that the ever-lightening color could be due to increasing amounts of grey infused with the original chestnut - and blue-green eyes that were squinting critically around the room. Last in line stood a tall, powerfully-built man with still-dark but thinning curls above a grinning face that looked far too youthful for his age.

"Do you think we missed anything?" the one in the middle asked finally, running a hand lightly through his neatly combed locks, careful not to shake the style out of place.

"Everything looks perfect, Kurt," assured the first man. "You really outdid yourself this time. Everyone is going to love it."

The tallest man chimed in, "I'm with Blaine. It totally looks just like it did the first time, with all the red and brown decorations and stuff."

"_Russet_ and _Cognac_, Finn," the first man objected, a trifle testily. "Why do you always forget that?"

Finn rolled his eyes fondly. "Whatever. My point is, you recreated their wedding reception almost exactly. The only difference is the little silver accents all over the place. Vases and bows on the bunting and silver flowers everywhere mixed in with the red."

Kurt shrugged, unable to hide a proud smile. "It is their 25th wedding anniversary. I wanted them to have a perfect combination of traditional anniversary elements and nostalgic do-you-remembers."

Blaine looked at him fondly, stretching up on his toes to kiss Kurt's cheek. "Well, I think it looks amazing. And I'm so excited that I get to be a part of it this time! I never got to see the original, so this is really a treat for me. To think, I'm seeing a recreation of the very first wedding ever arranged by the CEO of '_Celebration'_. Kurt Hummel, event planner to the _stars_."

As Finn and Blaine both burst into laughter, Kurt groaned and rested his head upon the shorter man's shoulder. "Do you have to make me sound like I'm appearing on one of those stupid tabloid TV shows? Seriously, you plan _one_ wedding for a big movie star and suddenly everyone in the universe wants you to drop what you're doing to plan their event!"

"You're not fooling us one bit," Finn objected, giving his brother a friendly poke with his elbow. "You love schmoozing with the snobs in Beverly Hills."

The smile turned sheepish. "Well, maybe a little. It's not like I have a choice, though. After all, my husband won an Oscar for Best Original Song last year. It's not like I could avoid Hollywood, even if I wanted to."

"Well, we _could_, but what fun would that be? And after all, I could never have written a hit love song without such a wonderful source of inspiration by my side," Blaine claimed, kissing Kurt again, on the lips this time.

Finn fondly rolled his eyes at them as Kurt melted into the gesture. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in that you're rich and famous and still goofy in love after twenty-something years."

He himself was now happily divorced with two teenage children and full-time owner/operator of his step-father's mechanic business, which Burt had proudly handed over upon his retirement five years ago.

Suddenly, Finn stopped, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hey! This is your guys' 25th too, isn't it? I just realized that."

"Well, not as a married couple," Kurt protested, wrapping both arms around Blaine as he hooked his chin over the other man's shoulder, snuggling him close. "But, yes. Blaine and I met each other 25 years ago this month."

"We'll have been married twenty years this spring and we'll have a party for everybody then." Blaine added, eyes twinkling as he hitched his thick eyebrows suggestively at Finn. "But we chose to celebrate that particular mile-stone in private."

His brother-in-law wrinkled his nose. "Didn't you two meet on a staircase? Knowing you guys, I'll bet you recreated the moment at home and now you both have bruises and carpet burns on places I don't even want to think about. Nobody needs to see that. You know, unless you _really_ want the tabloids to take notice of you."

As his step-brother suggestively began pumping his hips and providing a bad acapella porn soundtrack, Kurt punched him none-too-gently in the arm, unable to keep from laughing. "Finn, that's disgusting!"

All three of them laughed. Though unrelated by blood, the three of them had become the truest of family over the years.

"How many people are coming tonight?" Blaine asked finally as the laughter subsided. "I know you invited everyone you could get a hold of who attended the original ceremony."

"We got about 70% positive responses back, which is fantastic," Kurt replied, beaming. "I never thought so many people would be able to get away this close to Thanksgiving but I suppose it doesn't hurt that the majority of Dad and Carole's close friends still live in the Lima area. I had more trouble wrangling up the old Glee Club, but Dad really wanted them here and I finally managed to pin everybody down. I can't wait to see them all again. Did you know that Dad told me he still brags about his Glee Wedding, even now? Apparently a lot of the attendees still fondly remember Finn's unusual Best Man toast."

Finn grinned happily at that news. "Really? Cool. But I guess it's not everybody who gets to serenade their mom and dance with their new brother, both at the same time. Though I've always wished I had been able to figure out some way to squeeze Burt in there too. I mean, he _had_ just become my dad."

Kurt snorted. "As I recall, you were still too scared of pissing him off back then to risk it."

He shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but we had gotten off to a kind of rocky start and Burt's pretty terrifying before you really get to know him. I remember that I was really nervous that I'd screw things up for my mom if I said the wrong thing."

Blaine had nodded agreement at Finn's opinion of Burt, even as Kurt scoffed at the notion of his father being a source of terror for anyone. Kurt smiled. "He was never letting go of Carole, or she of him. They were made for each other."

"Proof that second chances can sometimes be the best thing that ever happens to a person," Blaine mused, squeezing the arm Kurt still had draped around his waist. "If you hadn't given me a second chance after I idiotically friend-zoned you for so long, who knows where we'd be today."

"Someplace I don't want to think about being," Kurt murmured, kissing his hair. He looked around the room again, smiling this time. "It really does look nice, doesn't it?"

Finn shifted closer and draped a long arm around Kurt, squeezing both of them affectionately. "It looks great. Mom and Burt are gonna love it." He perked up suddenly. "Hey, do you guys think it would be cool if I made another Best Man toast tonight? I can include Burt this time."

Smiling, Kurt nudged the tall man with his shoulder. "I'm sure he'd love it, but this time I get to make a speech too. I was so busy organizing everything and making sure everyone was on schedule back then that I kind of accidentally cut myself out of a lot of the fun."

"As long as we're all making speeches, can I say a few words?" Blaine suggested. "Because the four of you really are the kind of family I always wanted to be a part of."

"Sure, bro, the more the merrier!" Finn agreed. "Just wait until everybody is all lit up from champagne and the open bar. That way, you're sure to get a lot of tears and everybody thinking your speech is the greatest thing ever."

Kurt gave him a strange look. "Is that your secret? Drunken sneak-toasts?" Finn just grinned, making his brother snort. "Figures."

"Come on," Blaine said after a few seconds, dragging Kurt away from the temptation to make any more last-minute improvements. "We've got two hours until the party starts and you know you're going to need that long before you're fully satisfied that we both look entirely fabulous."

"What about me?" Finn said, looking worried. "I'm not all that good at fabulous."

Kurt patted his arm. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of. I dropped your suit off from the tailor's shop this morning, the kids' clothes are hanging pressed and ready in their closets, Carole is taking her namesake to get her hair and nails done as we speak, and Blaine had taught your son to fasten up a proper bow tie by the time he'd started kindergarten. I'm sure he can help you with yours."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. A few seconds passed and then, "You think?"

"I guarantee it," Kurt told him, sharing an affectionate grin with his husband.

Finn fell into step with his brothers. "Cool."

Taking one last glance behind him, Kurt smiled. Two and a half decades had gone by in the blink of an eye, taking the youthful innocence of three teenage boys with it, but it turned out that "middle age" was not nearly as horrifying as his 17-year-old self would once have imagined. He was happy in his marriage and satisfied with his career. He had made many new friends and kept a surprising number of the old ones. Dad and Carole were still full of vigor and in excellent health, and tonight they were all getting together to commemorate the day they had become an official family.

He decided, stroking his fingertips through Blaine's winter-frosted curls and thinking back on their own first day, twenty-five years ago, that silver just might be his very favorite color.

**THE END**

**It doesn't take blood to make family and I think these three will love and support each other as long as they live. And Barole will _still_ be just as awesome after 25 years! - Comments? **


	10. Prepared

**This one follows "Goodbye", so you know it won't be a barrel of laughs. Sorry about that. I just wanted Kurt to have a chance to process and react to what happened.**

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Kurt Hummel believed in being prepared for any contingency.

He always carried extra clothes in his car, as well as a spare set inside his locker at school, ready for any kind of fashion emergency whether accidental (spilling a cup of coffee while encountering an unexpected pot hole) or intentional (jocks, 'nuff said).

One hundred dollars cash, carefully folded and tucked out of sight, plus two sandwich bags full of loose change that occupied his bedside drawer and his glove compartment. One never knew when a random wallet-loss or theft might happen. Even his dad had been mugged once, in Columbus of all places!

A good moisturizer, foundation, cover up and blending powder tucked into the bottom of his locker. It just saved a lot of questions at home when the bruising became too obvious. Plus travel-size shampoo, a small towel, a bottle of leave-in conditioner and hairspray. Too many slushies to the face taught one to be ready to fix one's appearance at a moment's notice, and he refused to go through his entire school day with sticky hair.

His homework was something he always did as soon as he got home from school, even on Fridays. Finn thought he was crazy and even Blaine eyed him with something like concern when they realized this strange habit, but Kurt absolutely hated being caught scrambling without enough time to turn in a decent effort. The result wasn't always perfect, but his teachers knew him well enough to realize that if he was turning in the wrong answers then he genuinely didn't understand the material. It wasn't that he was just half-assing the assignments in hopes of scraping by the class, like many.

He always had an idea ready for glee club, not that he got to present many of them, and he worked hard at the harmonies and steps. In the unlikely event that Mr. Schuester ever decided to give him a moment in the spotlight, he was going to prove that he was worthy of the trust.

In short, Kurt could put a Boy Scout troupe to shame when it came to the motto: Be Prepared.

The downside to this was that when something completely unexpected happened, something that he could have in no way been prepared for, Kurt had a tendency to panic.

Not that many people knew that. He was a master at covering up uncertainty and fear with a cool façade and an air of disdain, but sometimes things happened that were too big. Sometimes people broke through that carefully constructed wall and left him raw and vulnerable and emotionally naked to the entire world.

His father's heart attack. Karofsky's surprise hate-kiss. Blaine's declaration of love.

Kurt never knew what to do or how to act in those moments. Did he laugh? Cry? Scream? These were not the kind of events he could just brush off and move forward. They were not something that he could just shrug and allow to roll off his back, the way Mr. Schuester seemed to believe he should have done with all of the endless bullying.

Good things and bad, sometimes he just needed somebody else to shine a light on his path and tell him which way to go, how to behave, the best way to handle something he could not have imagined happening to him.

With Dad, there had been little that he could do except wait, try his damnedest not to fall apart, and keep life rolling forward the way that it needed to. He kept going, frightened out of his mind and longing for someone else to take over his responsibilities, to offer a little comfort and a shoulder to cry on. But everyone had been too busy trying to change him, to convert him, to be of any help.

So Kurt had done the best he could to move forward alone and figure his own way through.

With Karofsky, the first reaction had been to shove him away, to run, to cry, and eventually to vomit until he was sure his internal organs were about to evacuate his body. There had been nothing he could do except try to avoid a repeat. The truth was too humiliating to share, too worrisome to dwell on, and Kurt himself too noble (drat you and your ethics-by-example teachings, Dad) to deliberately out another gay kid. No matter how badly he wanted to.

Kurt had struggled through alone, until external forces finally allowed the truth to come out and Kurt to temporarily escape. And that, too, was something he had not known how to prepare for.

When Blaine had declared his love so unexpectedly in the coffee shop, Kurt had simply frozen. His heart instantly began whooping and shouting and doing an ecstatic happy dance. His brain had gone totally blank, afraid that he had wished the statement into existence. It was only that goofy, lovesick smile on Blaine's face that had managed to convince his vocal chords to take a chance and say, "I love you, too."

And with that, Kurt had given over his effort to control the relationship, allowing Blaine to take the lead. His boyfriend had no more experience with love and sex and real-life romance than he did, but he just acted so much more comfortable with every aspect of an intimate relationship than Kurt was. Kurt prepared for each new step in the relationship by taking comfort in Blaine's confidence, and by loving him and trusting that he would not let them fall. It took months before he realized that Blaine had been doing the same with him, simply biding his time and watching Kurt for clues on how fast and far to proceed.

Kurt, it turned out, had been leading their dance the entire time.

And now, here he was again. The universe had zigged when he had really, honestly, hopefully expected it to zag. Kurt had aced his audition for NYADA. He had practiced and prepared and drafted friends to back him, and he had done the unthinkable. He had garnered a few words of unstinting praise from the Dean of Performance herself.

He had had every reason in the world to believe that he would make it into that school. Until the moment when he learned that he had not.

Rachel Berry, with her painful bomb of an audition, had somehow convinced the Dean to grant her a second chance. At Show Choir Nationals of all places! Where she was backed by the entire glee club and spotlighted on two completely different songs, polished and propped up to look and sound her very best. Rachel, leading the choir to victory and no doubt getting glowing recommendations from every direction, while Kurt had had nothing but his original audition to stand for him. Receiving only a single duet line at Nationals and otherwise pranced in the background, an adjunct to Rachel's star turn, as always.

He wondered if Madame Tibideaux had even realized he was there. Probably not…

So Kurt had done what was expected of him. He had plastered on a supportive smile, congratulated his friend and gone to the train station to see her off on the adventure that should have been his. Refusing Blaine's offer of company after the train was out of sight and just going home to sit in his bedroom alone, staring around at sticky-noted relics of his life that were supposed to be fond memories of a childhood put away for safe keeping as he moved forward into the future.

Without warning, the tears that he had been holding at bay for three long days showed up. Dropping his face into his hands, Kurt cried. He cried for the lost dreams and dead hopes and bitter envy of a friend who never failed to get what she wanted, usually at his expense somehow. He cried for the stupidity of pinning all his hopes on something that had really been Rachel's dream, and expecting anyone but her to benefit from it. He cried for the simple, terrible pain of being left behind.

Minutes passed, tears eventually subsided, and Kurt drew a deep breath. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he dug into the drawer of his bedside table where a long, heavy envelope lay.

Fashion design school. Not one of the bigger-name ones. Just a contingency plan that not even Blaine knew about.

It had been a lesser dream that he had taken a chance on, just for kicks, just to see if there was a chance that his hobby of creating sketches, designs and personal ensembles, might be able to catch anyone's interest. He had been surprised and flattered beyond measure when the acceptance letter came.

It was not his lifelong ambition. The idea of giving up on the bright lights of Broadway hurt, in a way that Kurt had never expected, but it was a very legitimate choice for him. A career that he could be good at, and come to love with all his heart once the initial sting of this failure had ebbed.

Part of him felt as if he had jinxed his chances by daring to apply to a safety school in a completely different field of study, but there had always been a nagging doubt as to his chances with NYADA. If he couldn't even impress a football coach and a guidance counselor, what chance did he have with a panel (as he had supposed then) of real world theater critics?

So he had applied, taking a chance on a backup plan. Just in case.

Kurt Hummel believed in being prepared for any contingency.

**THE END**

**Am I weird for liking this one? Yeah? Okay. - Comments would be nice anyway.**


	11. Knowledge

**Santana Lopez opens Mercedes' eyes to a different side of her best friend. **

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"Pay close attention, now. Don't take your eyes off me for an instant!"

All around Kurt, small children leaned forward in anticipation and watched him like hawks, trying to catch what he was about to do.

"This part is awesome," Santana whispered to Mercedes as they, too, watched the show.

The children gasped and clapped eagerly when Kurt's nimble fingers fluttered, his hands twirling around each other, and then his wrists snapping upward, a bouquet of silk roses suddenly appearing in his hands as if from nowhere.

As they '_ooo'd and aaah'd_' in appreciation, Kurt moved forward to hand one rose to each member of his audience of ten Lima General Hospital pediatric patients. Even the boys did not seem to mind that they were being given flowers. They all smiled and thanked him, some offering hugs, which Kurt gladly returned.

"How long has he been doing this?" Mercedes whispered back, eyes wide with awe as she beheld the unexpected sight of her best friend soaking in the love of these sick children he was making so happy. Kurt had sat back down on a chair he had placed in the very center of the group, taking one small boy, 5 or 6 years old with severe burns on the left side of his face, and letting the child assist him with a card trick that the other kids gathered in closer to watch. "And why did I have no idea about it?"

Santana shrugged. The door to the recreation area was open and she kept her voice low to avoid drawing the attention of those inside. "I only know because I'm a hospital volunteer. The nurses were short handed one day and sent me Pediatrics to deliver some balloons that had been ordered from the gift shop. When I was leaving I heard laughter and looked in here to find Houdini Junior letting a kid tie his hands together with one of his precious designer scarves. Took him about five seconds flat to work his way free of the knots. Which, incidentally, makes me seriously want to know just what the hell he and the hobbit do together in their private time."

"I don't believe this," Mercedes breathed, shaking her head and grinning as the little boy managed to successfully find the 'hidden ace' in Kurt's deck of cards and crowed with triumph as Kurt raised his arms in victory. "It's beautiful. Look how much those kids love him."

"I know," Santana agreed, her usual attitude put aside in favor of a genuine smile as she watched the small patients vie for Kurt's attention. "After the first time, I got his schedule from the Volunteer Coordinator just so I could sneak down here and check out the show sometimes."

Mercedes looked at her in surprise. "He doesn't know you watch?"

The Latina girl shrugged again. "Figured if he didn't want to tell anyone, it wasn't my business to ruin his secret."

Looking at her friend, who had only finally _become_ her friend through their shared experience in the Trouble-Tones earlier this year, Mercedes bit her lip. She had wondered why Santana had insisted on meeting here before they went to have dinner with Brittany and Sugar at Breadstix. It had been even more of a mystery when Santana dragged her to the observation window in the children's recreation area but insisted on staying back out of sight. Mercedes had not understood until she saw Kurt.

"So why are you telling me now?" she ventured, grinning as she heard Kurt burst into laughter at something one of the children said, demonstrating the kind of free, unrestrained mirth she heard all too rarely from him these days.

Santana shifted, looking uncomfortable as she pulled Mercedes a few feet down the hall so that they could talk at a more normal volume. "Look, I may be a bitch but I'm not heartless, all right? You guys are my friends, whether you like it or not, and the two of you used to have the kind of relationship that made everyone around you go lime-green-Jell-o with envy. Then all of a sudden, you didn't. After Kurt came back to McKinley last year, we could all see that he'd changed a lot and we adapted. But with you, it was like once he'd stopped fitting into the easy little 'Sassy Gay Friend' box you'd put him in, you didn't want to deal with him any more. You went your way, he went his. And that pisses me off, okay? Figured if I could do something to fix the balance of the universe, why the hell shouldn't I?"

Stunned, Mercedes gaped at her. "But we didn't . . . I mean, yeah we drifted some after he came back from Dalton, but that wasn't because I didn't want to deal with him! I love Kurt."

"Do you?" Santana retorted calmly, raising one eyebrow.

"Of course I do! He's my best friend."

Tilting her head back to look down her nose at the other girl, Santana flicked her eyes toward the rec-room where they could see that Kurt had abandoned magic tricks in favor of telling a story to his wide eyed audience, his lap now occupied by a thin, bald-headed girl in addition to the boy with the burn scars.

"Then why didn't you know about this? The nurse told me Kurt started doing this last year when his dad was a patient. He needed a distraction, I suppose, but then he kept coming back after Mr. Hummel was better. He's been coming here every weekend he could spare. That tells me that this has become a pretty important part of his life. If you love him so much, and are _such_ a close friend, then why didn't he feel like he could tell you about it?"

Mercedes tried to think of a come-back to that, but she could not. The girl was right. They really _had_ drifted and she could not actually remember the last time she and Kurt had spent any quality time together, one on one without the buffer of other friends and boyfriends to distract them. How had this happened? Worse, how had she not even noticed?

"Figured you could use a wake-up call," Santana told her, sounding disinterested in an effort to cover up the fact that she had just done something nice, for pure sentiment's sake. Bumping Mercedes' shoulder with her own, she said, "I'll tell Brit and Sugar you had to bail on dinner due to a family emergency."

With that, she walked away with a swish of her tiny skirt, not bothering to see whether Mercedes was following.

Gulping down a sudden rush of tears, Mercedes stepped back up to the window, watching Kurt gesture and smile, his eyes wide and sparkling as the children responded with eager questions to the tale he was spinning about a little boy and his father who used a magic bubble-wand to create giant bubbles that let them travel all over the world. He looked so happy, and she could not believe that she had been unaware of this side of Kurt. Magic tricks? Stories made up out of thin air? A clear enjoyment of spending time with children? It was like watching a complete stranger. A kind, wonderful stranger who, in spite of her new-found knowledge of his private life, still easily fit in to the image she had always carried of her best friend.

"Where did they go after that?" a boy asked loudly, pulling Mercedes' attention back to the story.

Kurt smiled at him. "Well that, Jacob, is a tale for another day."

"Awww!" the children whined in protest.

He laughed. "I know. I'm sorry, but I have to get going. I have a date tonight."

"With your boyfriend?" a little girl piped up.

Kurt looked a little surprised. "That's right. How did you know I had a boyfriend?"

"I saw him," she replied comfortably, snuggling up to him as Kurt automatically held out an arm to gather her in. "When he came to pick you up the last time. He's pretty!"

Kurt laughed, glancing around at the other children and relaxing when he realized that none of them looked confused or grossed out by the news that he was dating another boy. "He is, isn't he?"

"Not as pretty as you," another girl declared seriously. "You're the best looking boy I ever saw. If I was older, I would marry you."

"Me, too!" decided a boy who looked to be the oldest in the room at about eleven or twelve, grinning at Kurt's surprised expression.

The other children decided that they, too, would offer themselves up as matrimonial prospects in the event that things didn't work out with Blaine, leaving Kurt laughing and blushing as he tossed his head in flattered embarrassment.

Suddenly, his gaze landed on the observation window and Kurt's entire face transformed into an expression of shock. "Mercedes!" he blurted, drawing every eye in the room to her.

Since there was no point in hiding any more, Mercedes put on a smile and walked in to the room. "Hi, guys! Sorry if I startled you. I came to the hospital to meet my friend but she bailed on me. Thought I'd stop by here and check out the story-teller instead."

The children seemed satisfied with this explanation, but Kurt still looked a little stunned.

"I was just wrapping things up here," he said at last. The kids moaned again, especially when they saw the nurses on duty approaching to return them to their rooms. Seemingly struck with an idea, Kurt smiled at Mercedes and said, "Maybe we have time for one last thing before I go, if my friend Mercedes is willing to help me out. Do you guys like singing?"

"Yeah!" they chorused, happy to have an excuse to stay a few minutes longer.

Kurt gave Mercedes an inquiring look and she nodded, smiling when he mouthed 'Beautiful' at her. She took an empty chair that one of the nurses provided and together, she and Kurt sang a sweet acapella version of a song not performed since their Cheerio days. It had been a solo then, but Kurt easily improvised a harmony to the song they both knew like the back of their hands, and Mercedes felt her heart swell. The song, so perfect for a room full of sick and injured children, bridged the divide between the best friends she and Kurt had once been, and the even better friends she now hoped they could become.

After the song was over and the children had been returned to their rooms, Kurt and Mercedes stood looking at each other, neither quite knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry," they both blurted at the same time.

"I should have paid more attention to you," Mercedes pressed, at the same moment Kurt said, "I shouldn't have kept secrets from you."

Realizing that they weren't going to let each other take all of the blame, the two friends laughed and suddenly found themselves sharing a tight embrace.

"I've missed you," Kurt choked out.

"Me too," she whispered.

Blinking away tears, Kurt smiled. "How did you know I was here?"

"Santana," she replied with a short laugh. "She's a hospital volunteer too. Apparently us not hanging out enough is pissing her off, so she spilled your secret."

Kurt smiled ruefully. "I should have guessed. I've seen her peeking at me from the window a few times, but she was trying so hard to be sneaky that I didn't have the heart to let on that I knew."

"So when did you learn to do magic tricks?"

Kurt blushed. "Oh, I … when I was little, my dad bought me a book and a magic kit filled with supplies to do all sorts of simple tricks and illusions. I didn't have a lot of friends back then and it was a fun way to occupy my time, so I kept at it."

"You're good."

"Thanks. Um, I'm supposed to be meeting Blaine for dinner at the Olive Garden in half an hour, so it's too late to cancel, but do you maybe want to come along? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Mercedes looked at the floor. She wanted to say yes, very badly, but busting into somebody else's date was just rude. Plus, as polite as he was sure to be about it, she suspected that Blaine very much _would_ mind. "Nah, I'm meeting some of the girls for dinner tonight. But maybe if you're free tomorrow, we can meet up at the mall. Do some shopping, have lunch together, and just catch up. You know?"

The smile that lit Kurt's face was like the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud. "I'd love that. It's been forever since we hung out."

"It has been too long," she agreed. Hugging him again, she said, "See you tomorrow, then?"

Still smiling, he promised, "I'll pick you up at eleven."

As they parted ways, Mercedes took a deep breath. Pulling out her phone, she texted Santana. 'I owe you one. Dinner's on me tonight.'

A response quickly came back, 'Damn right! Get your butt down here. We's be goin' to Breadstix!'

With a laugh, Mercedes hurried toward the parking garage, feeling like something that had been misaligned in her life had finally snapped back into place.

**THE END**

**Because apparently I'm an eternal optimist... Comments?**


	12. Denial

**Sad, sad, sad, sad, sad! This chapter is about the funeral of Kurt's mother, so fair warning that it may prove to be a tear jerker for some.  
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It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. He refused to believe that it could be.

For four long days, he had been telling himself that this was not happening.

She had gone on a trip, maybe to see her sister in Michigan like she was always talking about. The only reason she hadn't taken him along to meet his cousins, like they'd always planned, was that he had to go to school and it just wasn't a good time for him to miss so much homework.

Except, he hadn't been to school all week so that must not be it.

They had told him about a car crash on the freeway when she had been coming home from work one day. It had been a really big one with lots of police and ambulances and fire trucks on the scene. They said she had been there, in the middle of it. That didn't mean she wasn't coming home, though! She had only taken a ride to the hospital, with broken legs so she couldn't leave, and maybe broken arms so she couldn't pick up the phone and call him to say so.

Except, surely Daddy would have gone to see her, if that was so.

As people continued to drop by the house, crying and looking sad and giving him hugs he didn't want as they called him a 'poor dear', it started getting harder to think of good reasons for her prolonged absence.

But he was stubborn. His parents both said so. If he concentrated hard enough, he could make it not be happening. He would wake up one morning and find out that this had all just been a terrible nightmare. He could wake up and feel her tender arms holding and comforting him, just like they always had.

Because she couldn't be gone. Not forever. Not really. She had never told him a lie, at least not counting things like Santa Claus that every parent lied about. She wouldn't lie about the important things, and she had promised that she would be with him for as long as he needed her. He had never once doubted her when she said that she would be there for him to go to with any questions or worries he had. He could talk to her about anything, even things he was sometimes scared to talk to anyone else about.

He needed her now. Who else would hold him after a nightmare? Who else would celebrate with him whenever something good happened at school? Who would be there to bake his birthday cake when he turned nine in May? Who would he turn to when the world got too big or too scary for one lone eight year old to deal with?

What would he do if she was really gone?

He blinked back tears and shuffled closer to his father as an old man in a black suit and white collar continued to drone on slowly and sadly, talking about heaven and how lucky they all were to have had an angel on earth for so many years, and how God must have called her back to his side because she was so very special to Him.

A gulp of desperation was audible in the quiet cemetery as he swallowed down another wave of tears, struggling to hold back the urge to scream at the solemn faced man. He was wrong! She hadn't been an angel. She was just a person, a completely wonderful human who shouldn't be gone so soon! She was a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother.

She was _his_ mother and he wanted her back!

He wanted the old man's God to call for a do-over. Make it so that the other car's driver did not lose control and jump the median on the freeway. Make it so everything was all right again. He could do that, right? If this man's God was such a loving, all-powerful, all-knowing being, like everybody said? Maybe He could realize that it had been a mistake and put back to rights the shattered world of a devastated little boy and his father.

Oh, no! No.

It was starting to happen. Only it _couldn't_ happen! They couldn't be moving the big wooden box with her body inside of it down into that horrible dark hole in the ground. They couldn't! If they put in there, he would never see her again and it would really be happening.

It would be over and she would be gone forever.

_Daddy, do something! Say something!_ He pleaded the words silently, looking up at the grim, sad face of his father and hoping against hope that he would say something, _do_ something to stop this, to make it all be all right again. Barely able to see through his tears, he begged him. _Make it all right again!_ _Please don't let her be gone!_

Tear-filled eyes locked onto the casket now being lowered into the fresh grave, the man seemed to sense his silent pleading and held out a hand, blindly taking that shaking, much-smaller hand into his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

A feeling of safety swept over him. A feeling of comfort and reassurance, dimming the fear if not fully soothing the pain. There was nothing to be done. She was really and truly gone, but that did not mean that he was alone. There was somebody left who loved him and would always take care of him.

It was just the two of them now. They would have to learn to take care of each other.

He would learn to ask Daddy all of his questions, and go to him with the nightmares when they came. He had to. There was nobody else to listen anymore.

And it would be up to him to look after Daddy now. With her really gone away, Daddy wouldn't have anybody else either.

The droning speech finally stopped and people began to move forward to drop fresh flowers into the open grave, saying their last goodbyes.

For a moment, he resisted the pull of his father's hand, clinging for one final desperate moment to the hope that if he didn't drop his flower, if he never said goodbye to her, then she might somehow not have to go away and they would not have to be without her forever.

But he could not resist the strong yet gentle tug of his father's hand. The soft encouragement to say that terrible word, to let go of that fragile bloom . . . to let go of her.

And so he did what he was expected to do, tears flooding his face the entire time as he was unable to hold back the loud, messy sobs any longer. At last, he was unable to deny the horrible truth.

Kurt's mother was dead.

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**Based, of course, on Kurt's words about his father to the Glee Club in "Grilled Cheesus" - Comments?**


	13. Haze

**Brittany, Kurt and Lord Tubbington go shopping! One of the dictionary definitions of "Haze" is 'a vague or confused state of mind'. Who else does that suggest but Brittany. I wish I could link you to the adorable cartoon that Geminico drew for this over on Tumblr. **

******I usually wait until evening to post these, but this is my favorite chapter so I'm sharing it a little early.**

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Kurt was awakened at 7:05am on a Saturday morning by the sound of the doorbell buzzing downstairs. He groaned, waiting hopefully for the person to either go away or wake up somebody else so that he would not have to leave the cozy confines of his bed.

The bell rang again, someone leaning on the buzzer by the sound of it, and Kurt let out a curse that would have shocked most of the people that knew him. Dad and Carole weren't here, he remembered now. They had flown to Washington DC last night for some kind of Congressional welcoming dinner held in honor of the newly elected members. Sam wasn't here either, having gone back to Kentucky for the weekend to visit with his parents. Finn was home, but he would probably sleep through the apocalypse if it happened to fall on a weekend.

"Damn it," he grumbled, resigning himself to the fact that the visitor was not going to go away.

For once not giving a rat's ass about his appearance; in fact, hoping that his pillow creased complexion and Bride-of-Frankenstein hair might give the other person a well deserved fright, or at least clue them in to how rude they were being, Kurt stomped down the stairs and yanked open the door just as another chorus of bell-ringing began.

"_What_?" he snapped, then blinked in confusion when his squinting eyes landed upon the last person in the world that he had been expecting.

Brittany Pierce stood on the doorstep, beaming a happy smile at him and lugging in both arms the largest, most irritated looking cat that Kurt had ever seen. "Hi, Kurt," she chirped. "We were starting to think nobody was home. Is this the new outfit you were telling Mercedes about? I've never seen you wear anything like it before. It's really hot, but it might be a little cold if you wore it to school. I'm not sure how something can be hot and cold at the same time, though, so you probably know what you're doing. That's why we're here!"

Suddenly wishing he had taken a moment to throw on some regular clothes, or at least put on a bathrobe over his Paul Smith designer briefs and the Disney Classics T-shirt that Blaine had given him for Christmas, Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look self-conscious.

"It's not my new outfit, Brittany. It's my, um . . . my pajamas. You woke me up." Scratching his wild hair in an attempt to lessen the static a bit and settle it down, he asked. "What's with the cat?"

Brittany, who had looked distressed by the news that she'd pulled him out of bed, suddenly looked happy again at the question. "You've never met Lord Tubbington before, have you? Say hello, Lord Tubbington."

The cat stared at him with baleful green eyes.

"Uh, nice to meet you," Kurt ventured, feeling idiotic but knowing that Brittany would be far quicker to get to the point if he played along. "Why are you guys here again?"

"Retail Therapy," she explained, suddenly very serious. "I've run out of ideas for curing Lord Tubbington of his smoking and drinking addictions, and he won't stay on his diet. I caught him sneaking out for Burger King three times last week! Then yesterday, I overheard you telling Mercedes that any problem could be cured with . . . "

"Retail Therapy," Kurt repeated the words with her. With a deep sigh, Kurt bid farewell to his hopes of making a quick return to his bed for a few more hours' sleep. Opening the door a bit wider, he invited, "Let me start by getting dressed and then we'll discuss it over breakfast. How does Tubbington like his eggs?"

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Two hours later, still not quite sure how he had allowed himself to be talked into taking a gigantic surly feline to a shopping mall, Kurt and Brittany walked through the south entrance, a scowling Lord Tubbington dangling precariously from Brittany's folded arms. Normally Kurt would have used the main door, but he felt sure that, A.) he really did not want to be seen, much less recognized, while doing this, and that, B.) letting Lord Tubbington anywhere near the food court was just asking for trouble. His mind was still reeling over the amount of breakfast that creature had inhaled in his kitchen. It had practically snapped his hand off in its haste to eat the sausage link he had tentatively offered.

"So, where should we go first?" Brittany asked cheerfully, not at all fazed to be toting a 25 pound cat through the mall. "I think we should go somewhere and get a facial. Lord Tubbington enjoys a good facial before trying on clothes."

"Yeah, me too," Kurt agreed faintly, eyeing the cat who looked like it was giving serious debate to whether it wanted to claw their eyes out before, or after the promised spa treatment. Or maybe the animal just wanted one of those cigarettes Brittany claimed it loved so much. Seriously, after spending all morning in the company of these two, Kurt was no longer sure how seriously to take that claim. "But I don't think we're really allowed to bring a cat into the mall, and I don't want to get arrested by the mall cops today."

"Lord Tubbington got arrested once, trying to buy Ecstasy for a party. Luckily, Santana was able to convince the police to drop the charges."

Kurt struggled valiantly not to laugh. "Really?" he choked. "I'm surprised. Santana doesn't really strike me as much of a cat person."

"They became friends after he started helping with her housework," Brittany said seriously. "It was the least he could do to return the favor. Do you know what they do to guys like Lord Tubbington in prison?"

He blinked. "Do you?"

Brittany looked blankly at him for a moment, and then she laughed. "No!"

"Why don't we try in there?" Kurt suggested, spotting a 'Baby GAP' store across the courtyard. "They should carry something that fits. As much as I generally loathe the GAP just on general principle, their children's selection actually isn't terrible."

And just maybe they could get away with being there on the grounds of Britt and Tubbs being kind of strangely cute together.

Kurt stuck his head into the store first, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't see any employees lurking around. "Come on, quick. Over to the Boys section."

Brittany began cooing and squealing over the assorted baby T-shirts and one-sies. Kurt just barely managing to talk her out of the latter, or in fact anything involving pants, on the grounds that they didn't leave any room for the cat's tail and would be uncomfortable.

"It isn't effective therapy if the patient isn't comfortable and happy with his purchases," he explained with admirable seriousness.

"That makes sense," Brittany decided.

He frowned thoughtfully when he noticed that Tubbington was giving him a look that he could have sworn was grateful. Clearly, being jarred awake at 7 o'clock on a Saturday had a bad effect upon one's sanity.

After sneaking through the assorted racks for fifteen long, tense minutes, expecting to be yelled at and thrown out at any moment, Kurt got Brittany to settle on three items. A tank top with the logo: I Live For Adventure! A brown, short-sleeved, hooded Henley that nearly caused Kurt to bite through his tongue trying not to laugh at the mental image of _Gangsta Tubbs_ that popped into his mind. And a ridiculously adorable pocketed black sweater-vest.

"Mr. Shue would be proud," Kurt squeaked as Brittany held up the vest in front of Tubbington, trying the garment for size.

She beamed. "Hear that, Lord Tubbington? Maybe you should join Glee Club next year." She looked back up at Kurt and said solemnly. "We could use a good bass in the boy's section."

"Good idea," he agreed cheerfully, fully into the absurd awesomeness of this adventure by now. He would never be able to read 'Alice in Wonderland' without a pang of sympathy for the heroine again. "The club can always use new members."

Was it his imagination or had Lord Tubbington just given him the finger?

"I better pay for these alone," Brittany decided, unceremoniously thrusting her pet into Kurt's arms and causing him to stagger under the unexpected weight. "He gets in a bad mood if he thinks I'm spending too much money."

As the girl flounced away, Kurt adjusted the cat a little more firmly into his arms and carefully backed out of the store, hoping to avoid being noticed by any security cameras.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he asked the cat. It gave him a cool, incredulous gaze. "Yeah, you're right. More days like this and I might be tempted to take up drinking."

The cat's eyes squeezed shut and it settled more comfortably against him. Kurt could just imagine it thinking the words, "I hear ya, brother."

Soon enough, Brittany emerged with a shopping bag and a smile. "Look how happy he is!" she cooed, stroking the cat's fur with her free hand. "I think he likes Retail Therapy."

"I think so, too. Maybe you should try online shopping next time," Kurt suggested glibly. "Does Tubbington have his own credit card?"

"Of course he does," Brittany said without missing a beat, "but I had to take it away after I found out he was using it to buy porn on the internet."

Kurt all but choked the words, "Bad Kitty dot Com?"

"You've seen it?"

A whimper escaped his lips. Kurt was seriously not going to be able to eat tonight if he kept biting his tongue this way. "I found it on Finn's browsing history."

Brittany just nodded wisely.

"But if you were to supervise Tubbington's shopping trips, he could probably be trusted to buy a few things," he continued, wondering just what the hell had gotten into him today. "I see him as a hat guy. Maybe a nice studded collar for when he's feeling the need to be a little bad-ass. That's why he tried the drugs, you know. It's all about self-expression."

Her eyes were wide with admiration. "Did he tell you that? Wow, Kurt, that's amazing! You really are a great therapist."

He gulped back a shriek of laughter. "I try. Maybe I should look into animal psychology as a possible career path."

"You'd be good at that," she said sincerely. Looking so happy that it made Kurt feel just a little bit guilty for feeding into her fantasies, she looped her free arm around his waist. "Thanks, Kurt."

Glancing from her to the cat, which had seemingly fallen asleep in his arms, Kurt smiled. "Anything for you, Britt. Now, let's get out of here before somebody catches us."

As Brittany happily chattered about the possibility of having Kurt over to her house for some one on one therapy sessions with his new feline patient, Lord Tubbington lazily opened his eyes and looked at Kurt.

Kurt could have sworn that the animal winked at him.

**THE END**

**Comments would be very much appreciated.**


	14. Wind

**I believe that Kurt and Blaine do a lot more together than just drink coffee, sing songs, watch musicals and have sex. One of the sweetest parts of a loving relationship is how it can change the way you look at the world around you. **

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Blaine had never been a big fan of wind. Oh, sure, an unexpected breeze on a hot day was nice, but in general it just made him feel twitchy and restless. It wasn't good for much except destruction and mayhem, turning average rain and snow storms into something dangerous and unpredictable.

Sometimes the hard rattling gusts striking his windows and rattling the gutters and eaves made him feel like curling into a little ball and hiding somewhere safe and quiet. There was no real reason for the feeling. He had never experienced any wind-related trauma that he was aware of, but he had felt that way for as long as he could remember. It was silly and childish but he just could not help it.

True, it had its uses. It could be harnessed for a clean energy source and he appreciated that, but it could also turn a simple fire into an uncontrollable wild-fire. The chaos that wind caused when left to its own devices just was not something he cared for.

Blaine liked order, and wind was anything but orderly.

He was not even one of those autumn lovers who waxed poetic about the old year fading away into dusk with the falling leaves. The multi-colored splendor was pretty and he enjoyed the sight very much, but he rather resented the way the wind dried and destroyed that beauty with endless blowing gusts, especially since it resulted in the backbreaking work of raking those leaves all up just to throw them away.

As for icy winter winds that cut right through his thickest coat and encouraged his curls to rebel against even the strongest of hair gels? No, thank you!

But then one day, Blaine met a boy.

Kurt was a beautiful, spirited boy with perfect hair and perfect clothes and an undying love for scarves. He owned a scarf for every occasion, and he was always searching for more, getting ready to embrace the changing seasons. Hot weather and cold, damp and dry, windy and calm, Kurt was ready with long winding strips of cotton and wool and cashmere that fluttered and danced in the breeze and created a riot of color to break up the monotony of prep school uniforms and dull Ohio winters.

It made Blaine smile and for once in his life, face the alternating weather patterns gladly. It made him warm to see how much Kurt loved the chaos of a windy day. It was as though it called to something deep inside his soul, a primal instinct that Kurt would certainly deny if anyone dared to point it out, but evidenced with every wild gust.

Sometimes Kurt would stand outside, bravely facing into a stiff breeze, closing his eyes and throwing his arms back with a smile, not even caring if the teasing wind disarranged his careful coif (he could restore it to perfect order in about 5 second flat, something that never failed to amaze Blaine), laughing and loving and _living_ the wild weather with a sense of freedom that Blaine had never known.

Thinking back, he wondered if that might have been the first thing about Kurt that he fell in love with. That unexpected playfulness in the face of Mother Nature.

The multiple layers of clothing he wore kept Kurt fearless in the face of the fiercest winter wind. Even when he was forced to wear the Dalton uniform every day, he always managed some trace of distinctiveness, and later, as ice and snow began to give way to the gentle rains of spring and the first warm rays of summer, Kurt's wardrobe began to adapt with it. The fabrics lightened, the layers eased, the colors got brighter to reflect the change of seasons, but there were always those lovely scarves remaining to flutter and dance.

"Aren't you ever afraid that all that wind exposure will dry out your skin?" Blaine ventured one day, watching his friend – not yet his boyfriend at the time – sniff at a fragrant breeze with clear delight in the distinct scent of damp grass and flowers caught in the aftermath of an overnight rain storm.

Kurt stared at him for a moment before saying patiently, "Of course not, Blaine. That's why we moisturize. Sun and wind damage can be prevented with regular application of the proper SPF sunscreen, which can be found in most of the better brand moisturizers. If you keep your skin properly hydrated and protected, a little windy weather isn't going to do you any harm."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Blaine admitted, unable to keep from smiling as he watched the other boy inhale the day.

"It rained last night," Kurt commented needlessly, given the evidence of damp foliage and slowly drying sidewalks all around them, "and now everything smells glorious. How can you hate the wind when it brings a scent like this to you? It's like the whole world is suddenly fresh and clean."

Kurt's delight slowly and surely ate away at Blaine's sour attitude where windy days were concerned, allowing him to enjoy them too.

Somehow becoming Kurt's boyfriend, admitting his love, allowed Blaine an insight into Kurt's rarely acknowledged adventurous side. Hardly anyone outside of Kurt's own father was ever allowed to see this and it made Blaine feel privileged.

One day, out of the blue, Kurt sent him a text inviting him to skip lunch and his afternoon classes and take a drive. He would not say where they were going, but in just over an hour, they found themselves up on a hilltop in some deserted clearing miles outside the Lima city limits.

Kurt had brought along a picnic basket, a blanket and several bricks obviously intended to keep the blanket from flying away under the force of a sharp breeze blowing much too powerfully for a nice, romantic picnic.

"Maybe we should find another spot," Blaine suggested, struggling to pin the blanket down with the bricks. He watched with amusement as Kurt efficiently and effortlessly weighted down his side. "You go camping, don't you?"

Kurt grinned. "I used to. Haven't done it for a couple of years, not since Dad met Carole, but we used to go every summer. Dad knows all of the best spots, with lakes and trees and not too many other campers. We'd hike and swim and read books by the lake. It was nice."

"Sounds nice," Blaine agreed, noticing that his boyfriend sounded a little wistful. "You should ask if you can go again. It might not be just you and your dad anymore, but I'll bet you could enjoy it as a family activity. I wish my family did stuff like that."

"We'll have to invite you along then. I'll talk to Dad," Kurt decided, nodding to himself in a way that Blaine had learned meant that he'd made up his mind about something.

"When did you do all this?" Blaine asked in disbelief, peeking into the basket and seeing what looked like enough food for an army.

Kurt grinned. "This morning. I knew this was the right thing to do today as soon as I woke up, so packed this up and told my dad that I would be leaving school early and that somebody else would need to fix dinner tonight. It wasn't my turn, but they tend to forget when it's Dad's or Finn's."

"And he just let you skip school?" Blaine said, shocked. His own parents rarely took much notice of his comings and goings but he couldn't even imagine them indulgently allowing him a day off from classes just for the asking.

Blaine watched as Kurt, ignoring the question for now, returned to his SUV and began rummaging in the back row of seats. He emerged with, "A _kite_?"

"Yep!" Kurt enthused, unfolding a huge, green, dragon-inspired contraption of balsa wood, stiff paper and string. "Haven't you ever flown one before? Dad started bringing me out to this place after my mother passed away. He'd take a day off from the garage and let me skip one day of school, and we'd come out to this place and eat and run around and fly kites all day long. It was the most wonderful experience I'd ever had. That's why he didn't get mad about school. All my work is caught up, and he knows how much this tradition means to me. When I told him I wanted to share it with you, he just told me to have fun and not stay out too late."

Unable to prevent the small pang of envy that always hit him when Kurt shared comments like that about his amazing, understanding father, Blaine nonetheless smiled. "You really want me to try kite-flying?"

"You'll love it! And today is the perfect kind of day, with exactly the right kind of wind. You once told me that you couldn't think of anything positive about a windy day. So today, Blaine Anderson, I'm going to open your eyes to a whole new world. Weight that last corner down with the picnic basket and follow me."

Blaine, who had been struggling with a wildly flapping corner of the blanket, obeyed the suggestion, wondering just what the heck Kurt had packed for them. "This basket weighs a ton! What's in here?"

"Just some sandwiches," he said nonchalantly. Then smiled, looking a little embarrassed. "And maybe some leftover fried chicken. And pickles, because you can't have a picnic without pickles. Or condiments for the sandwiches. I also made a bowl of fresh-fruit salad. Oh, and some cookies. Plus a gallon jar of lemonade, and some freezer-packs to keep it all cool. The weight is probably from the clay mugs and stoneware dishes I packed, so our food won't blow over and make a mess."

Blaine laughed. "I can't wait to try everything! Clearly, I've come on this adventure with a veteran picnicker."

Kurt just grinned and grabbed his hand, dragging him up a long slope and over to an open plain where the wind was whipping even harder. He showed Blaine how to hold on to the framework in the center of the kite so that he wouldn't lose his grip as he was running, pointing out the kite's features as he went. Kurt was going to hold on to the string and fly first, to show Blaine how it was done.

Sure that this was going to end in disaster, with a broken kite and possibly tears of disappointment, Blaine took off running at Kurt's command. He kept going, the kit flapping and fluttering and doing its best to tug its way out of his grasp, until he heard Kurt say, "Toss it!"

Blaine threw the object up in the air and ducked, bracing his arms over his head as he waited for it to crash down upon his skull, but then he heard Kurt let go a whoop and a triumphant laugh and looked up. The bright green dragon, with its fiercely painted expression and long forked tail, was airborne! It bobbed and weaved brightly on the buoying currents of wind, obeying Kurt's commands as he gave the string a little more slack or reeled it in a few feet to control the kite's direction.

"It worked!" Blaine yelped, jogging back over to his boyfriend's side.

Kurt laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders, keeping the kite afloat with the other as he pressed a big kiss to Blaine's cheek. "Of course it did! You did a great job launching him!"

After a few minutes, Kurt let Blaine take over, showing him how to guide the kite and smiling indulgently as Blaine grew ever more charmed with the adventure.

"Want to go from launch?" Kurt asked him eventually, carefully reeling the dragon back down from the heavens.

At Blaine's eager nod, Kurt braced the creature in his hands and told him, "Wait until you feel a good strong tug, and can see him struggling to get away from me, then all you need to do is give me a shout and I'll launch him for you."

"Okay," he agreed eagerly. He was a little nervous, unsure whether he could gauge the force of the wind as easily as Kurt seemed to, but really wanting to try.

Kurt counted to three and took off running. Blaine let him get a good start, anxiously wondering with every passing second if this was it. Had he missed it? Should he give it more time? Would Kurt be pissed off if he made him run too far?

Then he felt it, a strong tug against the string. Seeing the kite fluttering in Kurt's hand, he bellowed, "Launch it!"

Kurt tossed it up and after flapping drunkenly in mid-air for a few nerve-wracking moments, the dragon caught a strong gust of wind and took flight once more, rising higher and higher until it was again dancing on the breeze high above their heads.

Grinning like a maniac, Kurt ran back to Blaine's side, kissing him again even more enthusiastically than before. "That was great! You're a natural. Are you sure you haven't done this before?"

Blaine knew that he was being teased, but he did not care. He felt accomplished and strangely free as the wind whipped and played around his body, flapping his clothes and mussing his hair, and making him fall in love with it for the very first time.

Stopping long enough to eat, rest, refresh their sunscreen and make out a little in this advantageously empty spot, Kurt and Blaine spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the windy clearing. When they finally grew tired, they gathered everything up and packed the basket, blanket and kite back into the SUV, beginning their journey home surrounded by the first pink and gold rays of twilight.

"Thank you for today, Kurt," Blaine said tiredly, unable to stop smiling.

Kurt looked at him fondly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You're welcome."

There was no need to ask if he'd had fun. They smiled at each other, both rumpled and wind-blown, and so very, very happy.

Blaine settled back comfortably in his seat to watch as Kurt drove and sang along with the radio, feeling sure that he would never again feel the touch of wind against his skin without falling just a little bit deeper in love.

**THE END**


	15. Order

**Klaine has a little disagreement over lunch. This is what happens when you're craving Subway while trying to be creative.**

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"What do you want to do this afternoon?" Kurt asked, stepping into the sandwich line next to his boyfriend. "Are you in the mood for a movie, or some shopping, or maybe a trip to the skating rink? We haven't done that in ages."

"That's because I'm not a good skater," Blaine replied dryly. "I fall on my ass every single time. Last time you had to help me put ice and bruise ointment on my _butt_ afterward just so I could sit down! Santana didn't quit ragging us all week. If we go skating, I'll probably end up clinging to you like a barnacle the entire time we're on the floor."

Kurt grinned, his eyes twinkling. "So far I'm not seeing a downside to this plan. Come _on_. Please? I promise I won't let you get hurt if you go, and afterward we can sing karaoke!"

Visibly weakening at that word, Blaine shuffled his feet and admitted, "I do love karaoke."

"I know. And if you do this with me, then tomorrow night I promise we can go to that Cosmic Bowling place that you've been begging me to try," Kurt coaxed. "I'll even rent some of those butt-ugly neon shoes that you insist are part of the 'experience', even though I already own a perfectly serviceable pair of normal bowling shoes."

Grinning like a little kid, Blaine agreed, "Deal!" The sandwich line cleared and Blaine, without even thinking, ordered, "One foot-long Spicy Italian on herb and cheese bread, with pepper-jack and a little marinara for me, and a six-inch turkey on wheat, no cheese, with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, cucumbers, mustard and a single line of light mayo for this guy."

As the employees went to work constructing their lunch, Kurt stared at Blaine with an incredulous expression. "What was that?"

He blinked, "You paid last time, so I thought…"

"I don't care who paid last time! You didn't even ask me what I wanted. You just ordered for me!"

The sandwich maker paused, hand hovering uncertainly over the lunch meat selections as she picked up on the conversation. "Would you like something else, sir?" she asked politely.

"Yes," he said decidedly, shooting his abashed boyfriend a dirty look. "Make it a club, please, on wheat. With cheddar, toasted, and forget the toppings except for lettuce and a little mustard."

She nodded and hastily assembled his sandwich. Just to further demonstrate his irritation, Kurt paid for his own sandwich and carried his try over to an empty table, leaving Blaine to get his meal-deal with the usual chips and drink and pay for it himself.

"I'm really sorry, Kurt," Blaine apologized, taking the seat next to Kurt tentatively as if afraid he might snap and shove him right back off it again. "I didn't mean anything by that. It's just, isn't the turkey on wheat with no cheese your favorite sandwich here?"

"That isn't the point, Blaine," he huffed, taking a sharp bite of his sandwich and chomping ferociously at it for a few seconds before gulping it down with a grimace. "When you knew my coffee order at the Lima Bean, that was sweet and showed that you cared enough about me as a friend to pay attention to what I liked. This is different. For one thing, I don't _always_ order the same thing here and even if I did, it still wouldn't be your place to roll over my right to make that decision! It makes you look arrogant, as if you think I'm too stupid or flighty to know my own mind."

Blaine had meekly taken a few chips and a small bite of his sandwich while Kurt ranted, tearing his poor lunch into small, messy strips as he spoke. Blaine gulped. "I'm sorry. I don't think that about you at all," he said quietly, surprising Kurt enough that he stopped massacring his sandwich and looked up. "You're right, Kurt. That was totally rude and exactly like something my father would have done. Hell, it's something he _has_ done, to my mother for as long as I can remember. I'm pretty sure she hates it as much as you did, as much as Cooper and I did when he used to do the same thing to us. I don't know what came over me."

All the ire had fizzled right out of Kurt's snapping eyes, leaving them mild and tender with sudden understanding. "Did I provoke you when I demanded that we go skating, even though you didn't really want to? We don't have to go there, Blaine. It was only a suggestion, honestly."

"I know," he said, reaching out quickly to squeeze Kurt's hand and then letting go again with an instinctively nervous glance around the restaurant, as if the mention of his father might conjure the man up to glare at their 'outrageous public display' of affection. "And you didn't demand anything. You asked what I wanted, then threw out some choices. That's what I should have done for you. I'm really sorry, Kurt. Every once in a while that instinct to be the jerk my father trained by example creeps up on me, then I do something stupid and overbearing before I even realize it's happening."

Kurt gave his thigh a comforting pat. "Let's just forget about it. I probably overreacted anyhow. I mean, it was just a sandwich and it's not like you ordered me something I wouldn't have liked! You were only trying to be thoughtful. I shouldn't have bit your head off for it."

"You had a right. I was pushy," Blaine sighed, not quite ready to forgive himself just yet. "I really am sorry, Kurt."

Taking a glance of his own around the all but empty shop, Kurt moved closer and quickly pecked Blaine on the lips. "What do you say we finish lunch and just go back to my house instead of spending our afternoon out? I finally replaced my copy of "The Incredibles" and I'm sure it would cheer you up to watch a big strong dad get his butt kicked and need to be rescued by his smaller, smarter, super-hero family."

Realizing that the matter was forgiven and forgotten as far as Kurt was concerned, Blaine smiled. "I'd like that a lot. Why is this your second copy, though? Did you lose the first one?"

Kurt snorted, picking up a scrap from the sad-looking remains of his sandwich and dropping it again with a wrinkle of his nose. "No. Finn was mad at me because I yelled at him to quit leaving condensation rings all over the furniture and use a coaster, so he grabbed one of my movies and plonked a ceramic mug of hot chocolate down on top of the bare disc. Poor thing was warped and scratched beyond repair."

"Finn intentionally desecrated a Pixar classic?" Blaine said, aghast. "That's blasphemy!"

"I know!" Giving up on the sandwich scraps, he filched a few chips from Blaine's bag and popped them in his mouth. "Shall we take that to go?"

Blaine looked down at his own foot-long sandwich, from which had still only taken a single bite. "Sure. I'll tell you what. If you'll tell me what you really want to eat, I'll go buy you a new sandwich. You kind of destroyed that one."

Plucking ruefully at the shredded bits of ham and turkey, Kurt blushed. "That's sweet but I'm not really hungry anymore. Maybe I'll just microwave a bag of popcorn when we get home, to go with the movie."

Quickly, Blaine wrapped his sandwich back in its paper wrapper. "I'll share mine. There's enough for two here, if you want to try it."

Kurt smiled, recognizing a peace offering when he heard it. "That sounds great. It's good to try new and different things, at least until you find the best there is and don't need to look any more."

"We're not talking about food anymore, are we?" Blaine asked, beginning to grin.

"As a matter of fact, we're not," Kurt playfully teased back.

Disposing of their trash, the two boys left the restaurant nearly at a run and hopped into Blaine's car. Suddenly, they had plans to keep.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	16. Thanks

**Rory strikes me as kind of a lonely kid just fumbling clumsily through an uncertain adventure, trying to fit in and make friends, but never going about it in the right way. Remembering the idiotic crap that some of the other kids pulled in their early days, I find that I can't hold his mistakes against him.  
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**Note that this takes place somewhere within "Mash-Off" after the dodge ball but before the big reveal of that slimy pizza guy outing Santana. **

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"Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt popped his head out of his room at his father's call. Burt was standing at the top of the staircase with a bemused expression his face that instantly piqued his son's curiosity. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. There's somebody here to see you," he replied, mouth twitching with badly suppressed amusement. "For a minute, I thought he might be one of your mom's cousin Becca's kids, paying a long distance visit. He looks enough like that bunch to be one of them, but he says he goes to school with you."

For a moment, Kurt just looked at him blankly, and then it clicked. They'd only met once, at his mother's funeral, but he remembered the accent. His mother's cousin had been from Ireland. "Rory?" he guessed.

Burt nodded. "Yeah, I think that's what he said. I opened the door to go to work, and there he is, just standing there on the porch with a basket in his hands, asking polite as you please if my son might have a few minutes to visit before school. Damnedest thing I ever saw." Suddenly, a suspicious look passed over his face. "This kid isn't trying to court you or something, is he?"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt edged past his father and started down the stairs. He was ready for school. He had just been putting on a few finishing touches. "No, Dad, he's a foreign exchange student who's been staying with Brittany and her family. And as far as I know, given that he tried to convince Brittany that he was a leprechaun in order to get into her pants, he's straight."

"Says the kid who convinced her he was a straight-boy redneck and attempted the same thing," Burt teased, following him down and earning himself another put-upon roll of Kurt's blue eyes. Burt knew the whole story, but he would never grow tired of baiting his son over that incident. "Your friend is in the kitchen. I gotta get going."

Smoothing his ruffled feathers, Kurt gave his father a smile and a quick hug. "Have a good day. Be home on time tonight, okay? I'm making lasagna."

Burt perked up happily at that news. Ever since his heart attack, he wasn't allowed many indulgences when it came to food, but lasagna was one of his favorite dishes and his son had experimented until he discovered a heart-healthy recipe that tasted as delicious as the real thing. "I better go work up a good appetite, then!"

They grinned at each other and then the older man was gone. Kurt walked into the kitchen, and sure enough, Rory Flannigan was sitting on a stool next to a large wicker basket. He bounced to his feet the moment Kurt came into view, grinning in his typical fashion, like he'd just won the lottery. "Kurt, hello! I'm so glad I didn't miss you."

Glancing at the clock and seeing that they still had almost an hour before class, Kurt just smiled back, trying to appear welcoming though he actually felt more confused. He and Rory had only spoken to one another a handful of times, giving him no idea what had prompted this visit.

"It's nice to see you," he said kindly. "Is there something you need help with before school starts?"

Eyeing the basket, he prayed that the boy was not delivering a surprise from Brittany. Those could be inconvenient at best and a little scary at worst.

"Oh!" the other boy exclaimed excitedly. "I've come to offer y' a proper thank-you for what you did for me during the dodge-ball game yesterday."

"I'm really sorry that happened," he said with a sigh, wincing a bit when he noticed that Rory's nose still looked a little puffy and that there was a closed cut visible on his lower lip. "It should never have been allowed to go so far. I'm not surprised that Santana attacked you. She's never a very pleasant person, and she's now got all the other Trouble Tones following her lead. Especially Brittany. You should know that Brit would never have set out to hurt you if she hadn't gotten caught up in the excitement."

The taller boy shrugged. "So you say. I've certainly seen proof enough that she says and does whatever that girl tells her to," he agreed casually , flipping open the lid of his basket and producing a small jar, which he handed to Kurt.

Kurt smiled as he accepted it and found that it contained strawberry jam. "Chivers. I've never heard of this brand."

"It's from home. My favorite kind. My mum sent it in her last care-package," he explained with a smile, "along with some other things that I thought you might like to share with me. Like I said, I wanted to offer a proper thank you. She sent enough to share with Brittany, but I'd much rather share it with you."

Pulling up another one of the stools that lined up against the kitchen counter, Kurt sat and invited Rory to do the same. "Me?"

"Aye. You stood up for me when those girls were pounding me into the ground with those dodge balls, and all the other boys were just watchin' the show. That means a lot to me, Kurt. I know I had a wee crush on Brittany when I first got here, but she hasn't treated me in the best manner. I was hoping for a girlfriend, and instead I couldn't even make her m' friend. One of the things I wanted most when I came to the States was to make some real friends. I asked Finn Hudson, but he didn't seem very interested in takin' me on. You, though? What you did wasn't lip service. You could have just as easily been beat down right along with me, but you did it anyway."

Kurt looked away, a little embarrassed by the admiration in the younger boy's eyes. "I didn't really think about it," he demurred. "I'm just so sick of the bullying that goes on that school, and when I saw it happening right there between the two glee clubs... I just couldn't stand back and do nothing, the same way other people always have when I was the one getting bullied."

"And that makes you a good person, Kurt Hummel," he declared. "A much better man than you know. I wish I could show you my appreciation by voting for you next week, but since I can't, I thought I'd come over and see if you'd like to take a proper tea with me instead."

Kurt grinned when Rory began pulling more items from his basket. A cloth-wrapped basket of scones, a jar of something called Barry's Tea, a cute little china tea-pot with its own strainer and two matching cups and saucers. "Wow, you really went all out."

"I baked up the scones in Mrs. Pierce's kitchen," he explained in the tone of one who has taken a great dare and gotten away with it, "but I couldn't manage to smuggle the kettle out, so I was hopin' you might be able to provide us with hot water."

"Of course," he said, hopping up and going straight to the cabinet on the far left of the stove. "Ever since I met my boyfriend, I've become something of a coffee addict, but I used to drink tea all the time. Sometimes I still do when I need a little relaxation or a way to warm up on a cold night. When I was little, I used beg my dad to have tea parties with me out in the yard."

Rory grinned back, watching him efficiently wash out the kettle, refill it and set it on the stove to boil, before bringing out sugar, creamer packets, spoons and butter knives for them both to use. He laughed, "Aye, I can picture that. You da seemed like a very nice man, not the sort to disappoint a wee lad if he could help it at all."

"He was great about it," Kurt agreed, smiling fondly. "Looking back I don't know how he managed to do things like that with a straight face, but he was always great. What's your dad like?"

They chatted cordially about their families and assorted traditions, and the water was whistling in readiness before they knew it.

Kurt allowed Rory to prepare the tea while he rummaged in the refrigerator for some butter and lemon, suddenly anxious to appear a good host. There was a bowl of fresh fruit in the fridge that he brought out as well. "Want some? I always keep fresh fruit and veggie sticks around now," he explained. "Carole and I enjoy them, and Dad has to watch his heart so I like to give him alternatives to salty snacks."

"Delicious," Rory declared with a smile, helping himself to a small handful of cherries and grapes before adding butter and jam to his scone. Kurt had heated them up in the microwave and the butter melted nicely into the fresh pastry.

"Mm," Kurt hummed, closing his eyes as he bit into a strawberry enhanced scone of his own. "No, these are delicious. You'll have to share the recipe with me. Carole would nominate me for sainthood if I made her a batch of these."

Rory laughed, cheeks blushing with pleasure. "Thanks, 'tis nothin'. I'll write you out the recipe and bring it to school tomorrow."

"Or you could just email it to me," he suggested. "Or text. Let me see your phone."

Rory obeyed and Kurt efficiently tapped in his own cell number and hit send, ringing his own phone before hanging up.

"There," he said with a smile, eyes twinkling at the other boy. "Now you know for sure that we're friends."

The Irish lad beamed, his whole face lighting up with happiness. He liked to think that most of New Directions were friends now, or at least _friendly_, but this was the first time anyone had made the first move to confirm it. "I should warn ya, I'm likely to abuse the privilege."

Kurt just smiled. "No, you won't. Use it whenever you like. If it's an inconvenient time, I just won't answer."

"Fair enough," he agreed happily. "And please feel free to do the same."

Kurt nodded, thoroughly pleased with the way this day had started out. Reluctantly, he began gathering up the remains of their little feast. "We'd better get this cleaned up and put away, or we'll be late for school. How'd you get here, anyway? I thought you didn't have a car."

"Oh, Brittany drove me," he said, grimacing a little. "That's an experience that'll take a few years off, let me tell ya. I should probably call her to come and fetch me back."

"No need," Kurt said, quickly tapping a message into his phone. "There. Now she knows I'm giving you a ride to school."

His eyes widened. "Oh, no, Kurt, that's not necessary. You don't have to feel obliged just because-"

"I'm not," Kurt cut him off. "I'd do the same for anybody. Look, if you're going to make friends in this country, one thing you have to learn is not to argue with people when they offer to do something nice for you. It makes us feel unappreciated."

He put on a sad, exaggerated pout, which succeeded in winning the laugh he was obviously fishing for. "Understood," he chuckled. "And a ride would be very much appreciated, thank you."

Kurt grinned. "Thank you, for this wonderful surprise breakfast."

The two young men quickly cleared away the last of the food and dishes, packing the former in Kurt's refrigerator to keep for another time.

As Kurt excused himself to run upstairs and get his book-bag, which he had left in his room, he heard Rory's phone ringing. He smiled when he heard the other boy's voice say, "Hello, Mum! You won't believe what just happened. I made a new friend!"

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	17. Look

**Okay, I admit that this chapter is more about Sam than Kurt, but it kind of bugged me that one episode threw out the information that Sam had been living with the Hudmels since his return, without providing so much as a single peek at their life together. Sam and Kurt were friends by the end of Season 2, it would have been nice to have someone on the writing staff remember that! **

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"So, just drop your stuff anywhere. Sorry it's a mess in here, but I wasn't exactly thinking about where you'd stay the rest of the time when I decided to bring you back to New Directions. I'll clean up a little and give you more room. We have this camping cot and sleeping bags to put on top of it since none of the bedding we have is the right size for a twin. It's not very comfortable but it's only for the first night. I'll head over to the sporting good store in the morning and get one of those cool inflatable mattresses. The double-stack kind that feel just like a real bed. We used to have a couple of those, but I kind of left them out in the garage all winter instead of putting them in the attic like Burt told me, and they froze and cracked so the air wouldn't stay in them anymore."

Sam nodded, giving Finn a friendly slap on the shoulder to get him to stop babbling. He hadn't seen the guy in a few months, so it wasn't strange that things were a little awkward between them, but he had not expected Finn to act so nervous. "It's fine. I slept on a cot for months when my family was at the motel."

To his surprise, instead of being relieved by this news, Finn looked crushed. "Aw, man. I suck! This was supposed to be your do-over for last year, it wasn't supposed to remind you of living in a crappy motel with no stuff of your own." He looked a little doubtful as he offered, "You can have my bed and I'll sleep on the cot."

Sam smiled. It was a sweet thing for Finn to do, but the cot in question was only 6 feet long. It would be a tight fit for him. A guy Finn's size would never make it. "Nah, man, it's cool. Like you say, it's only for one night. I'm actually really grateful that your mom and step-dad agreed to let me live here for the rest of the school year, especially since they didn't know I was coming. That was pretty awesome."

"Yeah, Mom's cool about stuff like that. She let Puck and even Quinn stay at our old place when they needed somewhere to go. And Burt's a really generous guy."

"Kurt must have got it from him," Sam commented. "I didn't know what to think when he started bringing me clothes and stuff last year. He even altered a bunch of it to fit without being asked, and made a bunch of littler clothes out of the stuff I couldn't use for my brother and sister. Mom still refers to him as her 'Fashionable Angel'."

Finn grinned. "That sounds like Kurt. Hey! He's out with his boyfriend right now, so he doesn't know you're here yet. You want to surprise him?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "Totally!"

The two teens spent the next hour trying to clean up the disaster area that was Finn's bedroom, in expectation of fitting an extra bed frame into the space. It completely baffled Sam how Finn, who claimed to have lived all his life in a bedroom the size of a closet prior to moving to this house last year, could have adapted to this much-larger space so quickly. It was a huge room for one person, probably close to the size of the room that the 5-person Evans family had lived in for months, but all by himself Finn had managed to fill it wall to wall with _stuff_. Video consoles, clothes, sporting equipment, folding trays, a game table, a television set with DVD. Every inch of available space seemed to have something in it.

The door closed downstairs and they froze as they heard Kurt's distinctive voice sing out, "I'm home!"

Nearly giggling, Finn darted out into the hall, making motions for Sam to stay behind. "Hey, Kurt," he called down. "Come up here. I got something to show you!"

"I'll be there in a minute."

"No, dude! Come up now," he begged. He had told Sam that they had to act fast before one of the parents cornered Kurt and spoiled the surprise. "Please? It's awesome, I promise."

They waited a few seconds while Kurt finished putting away his jacket and scarf, then trudged up the stairs. "This better not be another 'awesome' thing involving the ability to stuff inhuman quantities of food into your mouth all at once," he warned, pausing a few steps in front of Finn and crossing his arms.

Kurt's ensemble of skin-tight steel gray trousers and knee high black boots, paired with a billowy teal shirt decorated with shoulder eppulates and a tie the same color as his pants gave him the appearance of an unusually fashionable Ohio State Police officer. The stern posture did nothing to help lessen that image and Sam had to press a fist to his mouth to keep from laughing out loud and spoiling Finn's big reveal.

"No, this is something really great!" Finn promised, grinning and bouncing on his toes in anticipation of Kurt's reaction. "You know how Rachel and I decided to drive down to Kentucky?"

"To see if you could recruit Sam back into New Directions," Kurt supplied, posture relaxing a bit. "Right, I forgot that was today. How did it go? Were you able to find him?"

Finn beamed. "Yep, and his parents agreed to let him come back to McKinley as long as he had somewhere safe to live, with responsible adults, and food and stuff."

Kurt began to smile. "A reasonable request, I think. So he's really coming back?"

Unable to keep it to himself any longer, Finn crowed, "He _is_ back! And guess whose responsible parents agreed to let him stay out rest of the school year!"

Sam stepped from his place behind Finn's door. "Ta-daaaa," he sang, holding out both arms.

To the surprise of everybody, probably even Kurt himself, the well-dressed boy gave a happy exclamation and took advantage of those extended arms to throw a tight hug around his friend. "Sam! Oh, my God, it's so good to see you!"

Laughing, Sam returned the embrace. "So, I guess that answers the question about whether you'd be upset about having to share your house for the next six months!"

"Upset! Are you kidding?" Kurt exclaimed, stepping back but still grinning ear to ear. "I've missed you like crazy, you big dork!"

"Hey! Who you calling a dork?" Sam demanded, unable to stop smiling either. He and Kurt had become good friends by the end of the previous school year, the other boy's generosity during his family's time of need something that he had not taken lightly.

Kurt's lips quirked and he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Tell me, do you still break out impressions of movie characters at every opportunity? Start up random conversations in Na'avi, Elvish and Klingon? Believe that Justin Bieber is a bright light in today's music industry? Have the entire 'Harry Potter' heptalogy memorized so well you can quote every movie?"

"Um, well yeah," he admitted sheepishly.

"There you go then, I rest my case. Embrace the dork side," Kurt told him, laughing.

He began excitedly filling Sam in on the lives of their fellow New Directions members, including the two new people who had joined this year. Noticing a somewhat glaring omission, Sam asked, "And Mercedes? How is she doing?"

Kurt bit his lip upon hearing the hopeful tone of his friend's voice. "She's good, I guess. Since she joined up with Shelby's group, we don't have as much opportunity to talk." Hesitating, with a glance at Finn who nodded support, he went on, "She has a new boyfriend named Shane; basically a two-legged mountain inside of a football jersey. He isn't that bad, hasn't tried to harass us or anything like most of the jocks do, but he doesn't seem to approve of Mercedes wasting too much time with us either."

"Oh," he said quietly, heart sinking. Part of him had hoped he might still have a chance to rekindle his summer romance with the girl he still had feelings for.

Finn patted his back. "I think she's just trying to do what's best for her right now. We haven't given up on her yet, so maybe you shouldn't either. After all, most of the club wrote you off as a loss when you transferred out and look where you are right now!"

"Back in Lima. About to be back at McKinley, and part of the New Directions again. About to kick butt with you guys at Sectionals," Sam reminded himself, a smile once again tugging at his lips. "You're right. If all that can happen, who says I don't still have a shot at getting back everything I lost?"

"That's the spirit," Kurt approved. "Now, if you're going to be living here, where are you going to stay? We have an extra room but right now it's stacked floor to ceiling with boxes of campaign literature and tons of other junk from my dad's campaign."

Sam grinned. "Dude, I forgot about that! Your dad is a real-life Congressman now. That's totally amazing!"

"I know! I'm really proud of him," Kurt said happily, adding as Finn nodded enthusiastically, "We all are. But that doesn't solve the problem of all his clutter keeping you from having a place to sleep tonight."

"He's bunking with me," Finn announced, puffing up proudly for having anticipated the problem ahead of his brother. "We were just working on clearing him a space when you came home."

Looking doubtful, Kurt stepped past the other two boys and stuck his head into Finn's room. A pained expression flitted over his features as he took in the chaos that all of their efforts still had not quite managed to alleviate. Most of the clothes and food containers had been picked up, but they were now stacked in precariously positioned piles in the corners. The floor space was still generously littered with old homework assignments, random movie and music cases and boxes of unidentified junk.

"And exactly how long have you been working?"

Finn shuffled his feet, crossing his arms over his chest and looking a little sheepish. "About an hour."

"An hour. And _this_ is as far as . . . wow, you know what? Sam can stay in my room tonight." At Finn's squawk of protest, Kurt leveled him with a glare. "Finn, seriously, how many times in the past month has your mom ordered you to clean up all of this crap? You'll probably trip over something in the middle of the night on your way to the bathroom and flatten Sam into a cute little blond tortilla. I have a perfectly nice pull-out couch in my room for when the girls come here for sleep-overs. It's comfortable, large enough to stretch out on, which is more than you can say for Dad's old camp-cot, and it will offer poor Sam far less danger of getting stomped on with your gigantic, uncoordinated feet."

Sam scratched his messy blond hair, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. He remembered early last year when these two barely even spoke to one another, and now just a year later, they totally sounded like siblings. "Dude, he kind of has a point. Why don't I just stay with Kurt for now, or until you can get that air mattress you were talking about."

Kurt gave him a strange look. "Why would you need an air mattress? The guest room has a very comfortable bed. I picked it out myself. Admittedly, you can't _get_ to it right now, but it does have one. Once we get a chance to clean the room up, you'll be more then welcome to use it. In fact, I'm sure that Carole will probably insist we get that done for you tomorrow."

"That sounds cool," he agreed, relishing the idea of having his own space for the next few months. He had not really thought it out, but part of him had expected to be sleeping on a borrowed sofa the whole time he was staying here.

Finn's eyes tracked back and forth between his brother and his friend, pouting at the smug expression on Kurt's face at having won the argument. Then he shrugged, affecting a nonchalant air. "It's okay with me if that's what you guys really want. You're gonna have to explain to Burt why you're sleeping with another dude though."

Kurt's glare should have incinerated his brother on the spot. "Finn, don't be a jerk. He's not going to be sleeping _with_ me. He's going to be sleeping near me, in the same room. There's a difference."

"If you say so," Finn sing-songed.

Sam laughed. God, how obvious could one person be? Finn wasn't getting his own way, so he was going to play _that_ card? Jesus, Sam's brother Stevie had more maturity, and he was only eight!

"Chill out, dude. If Kurt's dad has issues with me sleeping in his room, I'll go wherever he tells me to, but I'm pretty sure that me staying with Kurt won't cause a problem. Even if we end up in the same bed tonight, he'll wake up just as gay tomorrow morning. You have my word."

A bark of laughter sounded from Kurt, while Finn just looked confused. "You . . . but you're not . . . huh?"

Kurt gave Sam's shoulder an appreciative squeeze and said, "Dad was down in the kitchen talking to Carole when I came in. Let's go ask them. I doubt very much there'll be a problem with you using my sofa, as long as Dad is aware of why."

"Cool," he agreed.

Finn shrugged and lumbered along after them. He still looked a little put out over being outmaneuvered, but a visit to the kitchen, especially when somebody might be fixing dinner, was always a worthwhile trip.

As predicted, Burt and Carole were both completely at ease with the arrangement the boys had come to, Burt even apologizing for not having considered the state of the guest-room before sending Sam upstairs to get settled.

Carole was in the process of browning ground beef for home-made tacos and soon the three teenagers were all enthusiastically chopping veggies and heating shells and, in Sam's case, whipping up his family's special homemade taco sauce as a thank-you to the Hummel/Hudson clan for taking him in so generously.

At dinner, the group laughed and chattered. Sam had never felt so quickly accepted as a part of someone else's family before. He was suddenly looking forward to spending the rest of the school year with them. By now, Kurt and Finn's little spat had been forgotten as though it never happened, and they were happily bickering over what movie to watch after dinner, while Carole and Burt smiled indulgently and suggested that they let Sam choose, since it was his first night.

He smiled and suggested they watch his new DVD of "Wrath of the Titans", surprised when even Kurt agreed to give it a try.

Remembering where they had all been a year ago at this time, the adults newly wedded, Kurt forced to leave his friends for a strange new place after being harassed right out of school, Finn dubious about the chaos his life was now surrounded by at every turn, and Sam unknowingly right on the verge of becoming homeless and desperate, he shook his head.

Back then, this scene he now found himself in would have felt like a dream. It gave him hope that the rest of his cards would fall into place and he could win back Mercedes and make a success of his return to McKinley High and New Directions.

After all, just look how far he had already come.

**THE END**

**Comments?**

**FYI, if anyone read this before, I trimmed out a bit of the middle. I haven't watched "Hold On To Sixteen" since it first aired, and I couldn't remember whether they had discussed the Samcedes relationship or not and what I had written felt out of place, so it is no more.  
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	18. Summer

**Wow, not one single person liked Chapter 17 enough to leave a comment. I'll have to take a look at that one and figure out where I went wrong!  
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**This one is another brotherly Furt tale. This time, Finn gets to be the one to come to Kurt's rescue! And I suppose I should offer a naked!Kurt alert. :)  
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**_"Aaaahhh!"_**

It was difficult to say which of the Hummel-Hudson stepbrothers emitted the more shocked scream. Kurt's was higher pitched, but Finn's was decidedly louder.

"Finn! Jeez! You ever hear of knocking? Get out of here!" Kurt screeched, snatching a pillow and placing it strategically to cover as much of his body as possible.

"Dude, you're naked! It's two o'clock in the afternoon! Why are you naked?" His face wrinkled up in horrified curiosity. "Were you jerking off?"

Kurt's perspiration covered face could not have been any redder, though some of that was surely the result of his unfortunate sun exposure the day before. "No, I was not! Not that it's any of your business. Now quit staring at me, you pervert!"

"I'm not staring at you," he protested, in spite of the fact that his eyes were glued to Kurt's exposed form as if he could not tear them away. "I...I just came to see if you wanted to go swimming again, with me and the rest of the guys."

"Not if you promised to pay my way through theater school," he snapped, still lying sideways on his bed and clutching the pillow for dear life. "Now will you _please_ go away!"

Unfortunately, Finn seemed to remember that he had not yet received a satisfactory answer to his query. "But why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

With a loud, aggrieved groan, Kurt gave in to his frustration, thumping his head against the mattress and launching his protective covering straight at Finn's head. It smacked him dead-center in the face with a satisfying '_fwump_' sound, but then fell to the ground as Finn batted it away, shrieking like a girl and dancing away from the object.

"Ew! Kurt! You had that thing pressed against your junk! Don't throw it in a guy's face!"

Kurt muttered something unflattering under his breath. He didn't even bother finding something else to cover himself with, just resumed what he had been doing before his brother's rude interruption. Picking up a spray bottle that had been sitting on his night stand, he spritzed his body with water and flopped back on the bed, allowing the air from his circulating fan to dry the beads of moisture from his skin.

This was _his_ room, damn it. His own private sanctuary. If his lummox of a step-brother couldn't obey a simple standing request to knock before entering, or to vacate the premises when requested, then it was his own bad fortune if he set eyes on another boy's 'junk'.

"Dude, why aren't you getting dressed?" Finn asked faintly, comically both looking and trying _not_ to look at his brother's exposed body. "You're still, like, super-naked."

Turning his head to the side, Kurt glared at him with as much energy as he could muster. Which admittedly was far less effective than usual while he was buck-naked and wilting with heat exhaustion.

"Because it is over _one hundred fucking degrees _today_, _Finn," he snarled. "Just like it has been for the past three days. Just like it was _yesterday_ when I stupidly let you talk me into cooling off at the local swimming pool, which had been overrun by every other person in Lima too stupid to seek out the shade. And because that poor decision was exacerbated by the even _worse_ decision to let you be in charge of sunscreen, which you failed to check and see that it was six months past its expiration date, I am now sunburned all over my body. I am in _pain_, Finn, and so hot that I want to die. I can't stand the feel of my own clothes. Therefore, as you have repeatedly and annoying noted, I am naked."

Finn blinked. "Oh."

If Kurt's tone had grown any colder, the heatwave currently gripping western Ohio would have been over by evening. "Yes, Finn. _Oh._ Now, get out and let me suffer in peace."

To his combined relief and irritation, Finn slunk out of the room. It was good not be stared at like a frightening sideshow exhibit, and bad not to have anybody to take his foul mood out on anymore.

It wasn't entirely Finn's fault that he was so miserable. He had not caused the heat index to go through the roof, after all, and Kurt should have known better than to put on sunscreen without checking the bottle first. Finn probably didn't even realize that sunscreen could expire. Certainly _he_ was none the worse for wear after the experience, damn him and his pretty, easily-tanning hide.

Kurt moaned in discomfort, spraying himself from the water bottle again. He had already taken two cool baths today and applied a generous amount of moisturizer to his damaged skin in an effort to speed its healing, but nothing helped for long. He had barely slept last night and the lack of rest was making him even more cranky. God, no wonder poor Finn had fled.

He had no idea how much time had passed when a tentative knock sounded at his door, jerking Kurt out of a light doze. "Don't come in, I'm naked," he warned automatically.

A chuckle sounded from the other side. "Dude, we already crossed that bridge. I'm coming in, okay?"

Kurt scowled, but what did it matter? It wasn't as though the other boy hadn't already seen pretty much all there was to see. "Fine," he sighed. "Enter at your own risk."

The door came open with a crash and Kurt levered up on his elbows as his brother struggled into the room balancing several bottles, a half-dozen bags of frozen vegetables, and what appeared to be a bed sheet.

"What the hell?"

Finn grinned at him, deliberately keeping his eyes fixed on Kurt's face this time. "I'm here to help you. Get up for a minute."

"Did you already go swimming?" Kurt asked stupidly, unable to think of another response.

Scoffing, the taller boy rolled his eyes. "Of course not, stupid. You said you were in major pain. I couldn't just duck out and leave you to deal with it. Especially since it was part-way my fault. I need to put this stuff down, okay?"

Stunned by what he was hearing, Kurt nodded and lifted himself up off the bed. He did not know why, but standing up made him suddenly feel a great deal more exposed than before. Crossing his arms self-consciously, he backed up a step, wondering if Finn would notice him sneaking away into the bathroom to grab his robe.

Before he could make good on the idea, Finn let out a triumphant noise and grabbed him by the arm. "Lie down on that, dude. See how it feels."

Finn had folded the sheet into quarters and laid it in the spot where Kurt had been. Having no idea what he was planning, Kurt gingerly lay back down, gasping at the sensation. "It's cold!" he protested, instinctively pulling away from the shock, only to have Finn plant a large hand in the middle of his chest and push him back down. "What did you do?"

"Got it damp and then chucked it into the freezer for an hour," he said smugly. "My mom used to use that trick when I was little and we didn't have any extra money."

He flipped the edge of the chilled sheet to cover Kurt's body, making them both more comfortable. Brandishing the frozen veggies, Finn efficiently tucked them under Kurt's neck and knees and into his arm pits, tossing the final bag on top of the sheet right where his privates were located and eliciting a startled yelp. "Finn!"

"Sorry. It'll help, though. Then after you're cooled off some, we can use this. I went to the drug store and got you the good stuff."

Kurt eyed the bottle of neon green liquid suspiciously. "What is that?"

"After-Sun," he said. "It's good, absorbs fast and really soothes the heat. Plus it has aloe to help with the pain. I also got you some Tylenol and popsicles." Finn handed Kurt a cool bottle of water he had brought up, while he struggled to open the cap and seal on a brand new bottle of pain reliever.

Now feeling quite bad for having yelled at Finn earlier, Kurt smiled as he obediently swallowed a mouthful of water and two of the Tylenol. "Popsicles?"

Finn grinned. "To cool you off from the inside-out. And me, too, 'cause it really is way too freaking hot today. Want me to go grab you one?"

"Sure. A red one, please. This is all really nice of you, Finn," Kurt said meekly, squirming a bit against the chill of the frozen veggies pressing against his most sensitive areas.

Finn shrugged and smiled. "No biggie. You're my brother, man. You'd do the same for me. Oh, and I cleaned 'em out of frozen peas at the store, so if you need replacements just let me know."

With that, he was off like a shot to retrieve the coveted frozen treat.

Kurt shifted, taking the bags of vegetables out of their spots and rising from the bed long enough to grab a pair of light cotton boxers from his underwear drawer and pull them on. Then he lay back down and shook each of the veggie packs to redistribute the frozen contents before putting them back into their former places. The heat of the day was already stealing the chill from the sheet beneath his body, or maybe it was just the heat from his own skin that had done the damage. Either way, he did not bother flipping the top sheet layer over himself again.

"Hey, you're dressed!" Finn announced cheerfully as he reentered the room with four Popsicles balanced between his fingers. He handed two of them, a red one and an orange one, to Kurt. "You looked like you could use an extra."

With a smile, Kurt accepted them and peeled away the plastic wrapper from the orange one. "Thanks. And I'm not sure I'd consider this dressed, but at least I'm not mortifying us both any more. I really am sorry you had to see me like that. I know it must have been uncomfortable for you."

Finn shifted one shoulder, more interested in sucking down a droplet of escaping grape-flavored juice than in dwelling on the unwelcome sight of his brother's personal areas. "No worse than a locker-room," he decided. "Just wasn't expecting it. I didn't think you ever got naked unless you were taking a shower."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. "I make an exception for relentless heat waves."

"And sex, right?" Finn said, slurping on his second Popsicle.

"Uh..."

Finn's eyes went wide. "Dude. You even wear clothes during sex?"

"Will you please stop saying _sex_?" Kurt hissed. "I don't know if I would. I mean, I probably wouldn't, but I haven't, um..."

Finn looked stunned. "Seriously? But you and Blaine have been dating for months already!"

"Well so have you and Rachel," Kurt huffed, "and I know you two haven't done it."

"_Man_, having your girlfriend's best girlfriend be your brother really sucks," Finn whined. "Especially since you're a dude. I thought sure at least one of us was getting some. I mean, with you guys both being guys, it seemed like a sure thing."

Kurt rolled his eyes, licking his lips free of orange flavored juice and peeling the wrapper from his favorite cherry flavor. These really were making him feel better.

"It isn't that we've never wanted to," he admitted. "The timing just hasn't been right yet. It's a really big step and one we can't ever take back if it's done wrong. I didn't have the best start with kissing or dating, and I want this particular experience to be perfect. It really matters to me."

Thinking this over for a long moment, Finn shrugged and nodded, gulping down the last of his frozen treat.

A little unable to believe they were actually talking about this, especially since Finn usually avoided any acknowledgment of 'gay' as more than a general concept involving fabulous clothes and hand-holding between boys, Kurt ventured, "Are you disappointed in me? Now that you know Blaine and I aren't getting it on like rabbits every chance we get?"

Finn looked surprised. "Of course not. Why would I? It's your life and what you said makes a lot of sense. I really wanted sex, but I took the first offer I got and ended up losing it to somebody who didn't even care enough to pretend like she enjoyed it. I wish I'd been as strong as you."

"More like scared," Kurt admitted softly, tossing away the veggie packs as they began to feel more gross than soothing. He sat up and took the bottle of green goo that Finn handed him, pumping out a generous dollop to spread over his lobster skinned legs. Wow, this stuff felt great! He eagerly added more to his arms, chest and face, silently asking Finn to do the same for his back and shoulders.

Spreading the soothing gel evenly, Finn asked, "Why scared?"

"What if I do it wrong?" he asked quietly. "What if I want to do it one way, and he expects me to do it another way and it gets totally awkward? Or worse! We haven't even seen each other naked yet. What if Blaine takes one look at my body and decides he doesn't want to do it anymore? I know I have more muscle tone than I used to, but I'm still not exactly buff. What if he doesn't even want to touch me?"

Pausing in his ministrations, Finn squeezed Kurt's tense shoulders gently, mindful of the sunburn. He wasn't always the most perceptive person, but he seemed to realize that Kurt had never voiced these fears to another soul before.

"Kurt, he will. Trust me, when the moment comes you'll both be too nervous and horny to worry about anything like that. As for position, I don't really know what options two dudes have, but maybe you should talk about that before anything happens. It's sure to be embarrassing as hell, but at least you'll know when the time comes, and that way he'll at least know you're interested enough to think about it."

Surprised by this unexpectedly sound advice, and even more so by the fact that Finn had obviously been listening, Kurt ventured, "And the other thing?"

"What, your body? Nah, you're fine. I'm not into dudes but I've seen enough in locker rooms to know what ugly looks like, and you aren't. Besides, it isn't all about looks anyway. Are you gonna turn Blaine down if it turns out he's been hiding a paunch, or has a surgical scar or a hairy back?"

Kurt giggled into his hand. Finn looked like he was about to give himself nightmares. "I might draw the line at a hairy back. I'd have to make him wax," he laughed, feeling much more relaxed all of a sudden. "But no. I love Blaine. I don't care if he looks perfect or not, because he's perfect to me already."

Finn beamed, as if Kurt had just passed a test. "There you go then. If Blaine isn't into you because you're pale or whatever, then he's a jerk."

"He told me he loves me," Kurt confessed, smiling. It had only been a few weeks, but he still was not over that giddy revelation.

Finn grinned. "Then what are you so worried about? He loves you and you love him. When the right moment comes along, it will be awesome."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt said, giving him an impulsive hug. Then, remembering his state of near undress, he blushed. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You are a little slimy right now," Finn chuckled, surprising him yet again, "but I don't mind."

As the air from the electric fan gently touched and cooled damp skin that did not hurt for the first time in 24 hours, Kurt suddenly felt a wave of weariness rush over him and he gave a deep yawn.

"Wow, sorry," he apologized, the words truncated by a second yawn.

Finn just chuckled. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll come back later and give you another coat of this aloe stuff before dinner. You want to borrow one of my basketball tanks and some shorts to wear around the house? It'll be a lot looser than your own clothes."

The fashionable part of Kurt wanted to shun the offer in horror, but the more practical side of him recognized the wisdom in that suggestion. "I'd appreciate it. Thanks again, for everything."

Grinning, the bigger boy reached out, daring to muss his already disheveled hair. "Hey, I had to do something to keep you from becoming a nudist, right?"

Kurt snorted. "Very funny. Why don't you go meet the others for some swimming, like you planned? That way I won't have to listen to you crash around the house while I'm trying to sleep."

Recognizing the sarcastic comment as a request to go have some fun and not worry about him, Finn smiled. "Maybe I will. I bought some fresh sun-block when I was at the store."

Lying back down on his stomach on the still slightly-cool bed sheet, Kurt sighed happily, feeling the air from the fan caress his overheated back. "Good idea. That stuff can expire, you know," he mumbled.

"So they tell me," Finn said, studying him for a moment longer before getting up and gathering his deliveries off of Kurt's bed. After a moment's thought, he put the bottle of aloe ointment on the nightstand. "Have a good nap, bro."

Already half-asleep, Kurt just grunted and waggled his fingers. As he drifted off, he decided that he would have to keep the information he had just learned in mind. Finn had never been overly interested in his attempts at lady-chats over warm milk.

Apparently, he was more of a bro-chats and popsicles kind of guy.

Kurt could work with that.

**THE END**

**Call me crazy, but I really enjoyed writing this one. I'd really love some reviews if you've got a minute. Thanks.  
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	19. Tremble

**A holiday fic for the 4th of July. And yes, I admit this is kinda of sappy. The Hummels celebrate their first Independence Day as a family of two.  
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A subtle tremble shook the grassy earth beneath the picnic blanket, causing a little boy to scramble up onto his knees, neck craning in an effort to see. A long slope of dry earth separated the two sides of the park where brightly colored blankets and baskets and the occasional shade umbrella dotted the grassy areas of the park, and all along both sides of the path, children cocked their heads and listened.

"I don't see anything, Dad," he whispered anxiously, small fingers clasped together beneath his chin.

His father smiled and took one of his hands into his own much larger one, pressing them to the earth. "But you can feel it, can't you?" He nodded, meeting his father's green eyes with hopeful blue ones. "Listen, Kurt. You'll hear them before you see them, remember?"

Like others in the audience, Kurt cocked his head, ears straining for a sound and then he gasped. "I hear it! They're coming!"

Burt laughed, scooting to the edge of the picnic blanket and extending his long legs down the slope, pulling Kurt into his lap so that the excited little boy, still so much smaller than others his age, would have a good seat. He was glad to see Kurt exhibiting such enthusiasm. It was only a few months since Elizabeth had passed away, and neither of them had laughed much since then.

Burt had doubted whether it would even be a good idea to come here today, to carry on a family tradition that had started their first year as parents and continued every year since. He had not known whether Kurt would react well to the idea of doing this without her; whether he himself would be able to stand the sight of whole, happy families on this day.

But Kurt had wanted to come, insisting that they could not miss the parade. He had appeared for breakfast this morning dressed in neatly pressed blue shorts, a short-sleeved, cherry red button-down shirt with matching socks, blinding white sneakers on his feet and a cheerful red, white and blue striped bow-tie around his neck, asking him what time the picnic started and would it be okay to take some flowers to Mom before they went, so she wouldn't feel left out of the fun.

Unable to deny this request, Burt had packed them a big lunch of sandwiches and chips and bottles of soda with trembling hands, helping Kurt to pick a big bouquet of flowers from Liz's very own garden to take to her.

When they arrived at the big community park, Kurt had gamely picked out a spot where the sun would not be beating down on them all day, but from which they would still have a good view of the fireworks later. At his father's urging, he had played a few games with other children. Burt had serious doubts as to whether any fun had actually been had, given the relieved look on Kurt's face when he had returned, but at least the kid had gotten some exercise and a chance to socialize with people his own age. That had to be a good thing, right?

His attention was drawn back to the present when he felt Kurt begin to bounce with excitement. He grinned and pointed when the marching band from the local branch of OSU came striding down the long sunny slope, bright brass instruments proudly proclaiming the start to the Lima Independence Day Parade. "Here they come, Daddy!"

Burt smiled and hugged him around the middle. Ever since he started second grade last year, Kurt had been waffling between addressing him by the instinctive 'Daddy' or the more mature version of, 'Dad'. The former was becoming increasingly rare, popping out only in moments of great excitement or emotion, and Burt relished hearing it. "I see 'em, buddy."

"Look at the twirlers! Aren't they beautiful?"

He nodded, though he wasn't quite sure what was so great about the half dozen young men and women spinning batons at the tail end of the band.

"That looks like so much fun," Kurt sighed, smiling at one of the boys who tossed his baton high in the air, spun in a circle, and caught it again without missing a beat. The band member grinned and winked at the enthusiastically clapping boy, showing his appreciation for the applause without breaking form.

Burt hugged his son tighter, not quite sure he liked the admiring light in Kurt's eyes as he watched the boy march away. The kid was only nine, for Pete's sake! He couldn't possibly be crushing on some pimply teenager already, never mind that it was a _boy_. Burt had already started to accept that as an inevitable fact of his son's life, but he was just not ready for this.

"Do you think maybe I could get a baton for Christmas?" Kurt blurted, turning around and fixing big, hopeful eyes on his face.

"I dunno. Christmas is a long way from now, kid," Burt demurred, already picturing broken lamps and bruised limbs. "Why don't we wait until maybe Thanksgiving to start worrying about Christmas presents. For now, let's just watch the parade."

Kurt's bottom lip poked out a bit. "Okay," he mumbled.

Within minutes, the child was completely lost to his enthusiasm again, cheering for clowns, jugglers, some high school group that marched along belting out an enthusiastic performance of a song that Kurt told him was by Madonna and called 'Music', and last of all, a line of small flower and paper mache floats that local businesses always put together for this popular event.

"Dad! Daddy, look! There's ours!" Kurt screeched, pointing urgently as if he feared that Burt would miss the six by eight foot trailer being pulled by his own 'Hummel Tires and Lube' tow truck, driven by his frame-work specialist, Cassius Moore. Burt had not participated in the building of the float, leaving that to his employees - all of whom had volunteered enthusiastically when Kurt asked if they could help him make something for the parade.

Burt had been more than happy to give his staff permission to rotate between the garage and the Kurt's project, as long as things didn't get backed up on the shop floor. It had kept the kid happy and out of the way for a couple of weeks, and Kurt had surprisingly been more than happy to face the dangers of getting dirt, paint and glue stains on his special-order coveralls for the endeavor.

Burt chuckled as he took in the sight of the trailer, decorated to look like a city street with a big sign above it reading BROADWAY. He would have known Kurt had a hand in this, even if he had been completely unaware of his participation before today.

Kurt's old nursery poster of 'The Cat in the Hat' decorated the side facing them, along with the 'Riverdance' poster that he had begged Burt for when he had taken Kurt to see the traveling production that had come to Columbus just in time for his birthday. Both posters were framed in a wreath of flowers and there was also what looked like a trombone made of yellow flowers and a big white half-mask that Burt vaguely recognized as being from that 'Phantom' show.

HT&L employees Jenny Hall and Paul Savage waved to the crowd dressed in a spangly dress and the black suit that Burt suspected that his old friend hadn't worn since he got married ten years earlier. The visible straining of the material around Paul's waist agreed with that assessment.

The crowd seemed to really like the float, though, and Burt returned a few thumbs-up gestures from friends who had noticed him.

"Do you like it?" Kurt asked him, eyes sparkling. "I made the design all by myself! Tim and Cassius did the frames so my posters wouldn't fall off and they did all the paper mache too. Jenny and Joe and me did the flowers!"

"I liked it," he said honestly. "What was the 'Cat in the Hat' poster representing? That show 'Cats'?"

Kurt looked a little impressed that his dad actually knew the name of a Broadway show. "No, that closed a couple of years ago. It was for 'Seussical the Musical'. The others were 'Riverdance', 'The Music Man' and 'Phantom of the Opera', and on the side you couldn't see we had posters for 'Rocky Horror' and 'Aida'. Tim's wife likes Broadway and she let us borrow those. She's nice."

"She is," Burt agreed, feeling a lump in his throat over the knowledge that all of his employees had gone to so much trouble to help his motherless little boy. Liz used to have all of them over for dinner regularly, something he had not done a single time since she passed. It hadn't even occurred to him that Kurt might miss them all, or they him. "We'll have to have them over for a nice dinner some night to thank them all."

"A dinner party?" he asked, voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement, hands clasping in front of his chest. "Really? Can we play Murder Mystery?"

He was a bit shocked that Kurt would ask for that game. For months, Burt had carefully avoided any mention of death, assuming it would negatively remind Kurt of his mother. He hadn't expected him to ever be eager to play that silly role-playing game that Liz had invented for the two of them again, much less invite all of their friends to play. "Um, sure. I guess that would be okay, if they want to."

Not even bothering with words, Kurt squirmed around and hugged him tightly around the neck. Burt sighed and patted his back, wondering if he would ever figure this kid out.

After the parade ended, they ate lunch and took a walk around the park, stopping to chat with friends occasionally and play some of the organized games. They won a parent-child 3 legged race, much to Kurt's astonished pride, and lost a water balloon toss when Burt threw a little too hard, causing Kurt to screech and duck away from the projectile, afraid it would splash him. Burt managed to dunk a volunteer in the Dunk Tank, winning his son a little stuffed panda bear, and Kurt got a goldfish by tossing a plastic ring into its bowl. Burt secretly gave 'Patti LuPone' about a month at most before she would be swimming to that great fishbowl in the sky, but one never knew. Certainly Kurt was delighted enough by his new pet that he might keep it alive for longer than that, and Burt could always sub in a few pet store goldfish before he realized, if the worst should happen before Kurt was ready.

When the light began to wane, the Hummels returned to their picnic area. Burt settled on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, while Kurt lay down sideways, forming a 'T' with their bodies as he rested his head and shoulders on Burt's belly and waited for the fireworks to start.

Soon the sky was alight with red, gold, blue and orange. Fizzles and flowers and sparkles and rainbows of color. Booms and whistles and crackles, declaring a happy birthday to the USA.

"I wish Mom was here," Kurt said suddenly, his quiet voice barely audible above the noise from the fireworks. "This was her favorite part."

Reaching down, Burt rested a hand on the boy's thin chest, pressing it warm and protectively against him. "She is here, son," he said, tapping Kurt's chest right above his heart. "She's right in here, where she'll always be."

He sniffled and rolled over, shifting higher to drape himself over Burt's chest and rest his ear over the comforting beat of his father's own heart. "I miss her."

"I do, too," he responded gently, stroking the boy's hair. "But you still got me, Kurt, and I'll do my best to love you enough for both of us."

He felt the pressure of a light hug around his ribs and heard, "Can we go home now? I don't want any more 4th of July."

"Sure, son," he said, feeling that he too had reached his limit. Quickly, they stood and gathered their things, weaving their way carefully through the other families still watching the continuing show overhead.

As they packed everything in the car and buckled themselves in, Kurt smiled sleepily. "I had fun today. Thanks for bringing me to the picnic, even though you didn't really want to."

Burt gaped at him, too surprised to cover as he blurted, "How did you know?"

Kurt shrugged. "I could tell. You didn't want to go without Mom, but she wouldn't have wanted you to sit home and be sad and neither did I. That's why I asked if we could go."

Huffing a deep breath, wondering just how the heck he had ended up with the most perceptive kid on the planet, he replied, "You know, sometimes I think you're the dad and I'm the kid?"

Kurt laughed a little, the sound interrupted part way with a big yawn.

"Or maybe not," Burt said, smiling. "Cause right now it sounds like I better get my kid back home and put him to bed."

"Mmm," Kurt agreed sleepily, long lashed eyes already fluttering. "Don' forget Patti," he mumbled.

Burt chuckled and started the car. "Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure your fish gets to bed on time, too."

The boy smiled and sighed as he drifted away into sleep.

Burt studied him fondly for a few minutes before pulling out of the parking lot. At moments like this one, Elizabeth didn't feel so far away from them after all.

**THE END**

**Happy 4th, everybody! - Comments?**


	20. Transformation

**Apparently my account was not forwarding reviews to my email yesterday, so if you sent one and I failed to respond, Thank You! :)**

**This one is kind of a character study. I deliberately used no proper names until the last two sentences, just to see what it would be like. Once you realize who the speaker is, it should also be pretty obvious why nearly everybody gets insulted in this story!  
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It had not been a quick change. No overnight thing that everyone could point to as the defining moment when things had shifted. No. It had been subtler than that. Just rough edges wearing down over time, being smoothed away bit by bit, like a pebble honed to a silky-smooth finish by the relentless lapping of a stream.

Life always had a way of wearing people down eventually. Hardships, disappointments, deaths, all the sad but necessary experiences that shaped a person's character more surely than any of the happy carefree moments ever could.

It usually took decades for it to happen. For the carefree child to give way to the care-worn adult. For responsibility and obligation to become more important than freedom and self satisfaction.

He was one of those for whom the changes came early, circumstances beyond his control to which he had adapted rather than being destroyed. She could relate to him in a way that she rarely found possible in teenagers. For her life had also been shaped and influenced by outside factors, and she too had refused to be broken by them.

In many ways, he could have been a young version of herself. It did not matter that he was a gay boy with a voice like angels in flight. She recognized in him a kindred soul, another child made fully adult before his time. In some ways, despite the sweet baby face and occasionally immature actions that had characterized the 16 year old version she had first noticed prancing these halls like a speck of rainbow glitter on a dingy surface, it was difficult to imagine that he had ever been entirely carefree and innocent.

She had observed him each day once he caught her notice, watching as he moved through the hallways with a serene smile curving his full mouth but rarely reaching all the way to his eyes. Chin held high but jaw locked with determination not to show any sign of weakness that could be preyed upon. Clothes defiantly unusual but more practical than anyone else seemed to realize, with layers that could be easily removed and interchanged with something else in a similar color to hide the ruination of an outfit. Steps full of energy and bounce no matter how often he had been knocked off his stride on any given day.

This was the reason she had chosen him for such an important position in her squad during in his Sophomore year. Why she had lured him in with the promise of popularity and a chance at the spotlight for him and his best friend, knowing full well that only one of those two had the drive and strength to go the distance and do what it took to gain that much-longed-for glory.

It was the reason she still mourned his refusal to come back to her in the two years that followed. He walked to the beat of his own drummer, which did not surprise her in the slightest. He was not a herd animal like most of the other pathetic sheep that roamed these hallways.

But she had hated how much more difficult it was to protect him without that uniform, to watch out for his safety from a distance without giving herself away. When he had come to her during Junior year, finally beaten down by too many frights piled on top of each other in a short space of time, it had stung her to the core that she had failed him. The school board had failed him, really, but that time it had been her own hands tied by responsibility.

And then she had lost him for a time. His trust in her was badly shaken, but somehow not broken. He still spoke to her with a confidence and complete lack of fear that most grown adults could not manage. Still went to her when he needed help with something particularly difficult. It was gratifying, and just the slightest bit intimidating.

Her type of boy indeed.

She had started calling him Porcelain after he objected to Lady, feeling too stung by the actions of those around him to believe that the first nickname could be meant as anything but an insult. Again, she could not disabuse this notion without admitting that she cared, so she simply offered him a choice of new nicknames, knowing full well which one he would pick.

It was the one that she had already been toying with as being much more fitting for the person he was becoming.

Lady had never been an insult. _Lady-Face_, yes, but once she had gotten to know him and to secretly respect him, she had shortened it to Lady. Most of the time, she found that women were stronger, cleverer, hardier and more capable than men. He had all of those qualities in abundance, delivered within a refined and dainty exterior that threw others off-base, made them underestimate him, cleverly hid just how strong and capable he really was and how much he could take. He was ladylike, and it gave him power that he did not fully understand.

She had been reluctant to give up that name, but realized that it was no longer entirely applicable. By the time his Junior year came along, the transformation of his soul had already begun. He had grown quieter in general, but also less inclined to hide his temper and more prone to expressing how he truly felt about things. His core of strength was just as powerful, but his facade was becoming increasingly masculine, more obviously hard and tough, but still just as smooth as polished stone.

That was the true reason she chosen to call him Porcelain. It was a name that would be assumed to be about the pallor of his complexion, but was in truth her finest compliment. Porcelain is a very special substance. Raw silicate clay that has been honed by temperatures as high as 2,500 degrees, making it strong, hard, and highly resistant to outside shock. It is highly adaptable, difficult to permeate, but deceptively beautiful and fragile to look upon.

It _was_ him.

After he transferred schools, she had taken to spying on him at that ridiculous little coffee shop he liked, making sure that he was not coming to any harm. They had only spoken once, when she had used a show choir strategy as a ruse to get close enough to check out his appearance and get a better look at that shellacked Cary Grant impersonator he always seemed to spend time with. Boyfriend, she guessed from the ridiculous hearts-eyes they frequently exchanged.

The Keebler-Elf-in-Training would never know just how close he came to taking a blow-gun shaft tipped with venom from the exotic yellow-banded poison dart frog after she discovered that he had been leading her boy on for months. Word got passed back quickly when one had access to a top-notch spy network, and when she learned that the Warbler's lead had broken her boy's heart by kissing New Directions' loud-mouthed Pygmy right in front of him at a party . . . well, gel-helmet's days quickly became numbered.

Porcelain did not deserve any more heart-ache. Not on her watch. Fortunately for the other boy, before she could formulate a plan filled with an appropriate amount of reciprocal suffering, word got back to her that Baby Burt Reynolds had finally opened his eyes and seen what was right in front of him.

She had seen them together at Regionals, noted the way they looked at each other during their duet, and decided right then that the box of Tropical Fire Ants in her car could be shipped back their place of origin rather than delivered to a certain Dalton Academy dorm room.

This development may or may not have contributed to her enraged punching of the Lt Governor's lush of a wife.

Finally, Porcelain had come home, happier, lighter, the youthful light back in his eyes, and all had been well until Junior Prom. It infuriated her still that such a thing could have happened right under her very nose. But once again, that indomitable strength and well-practiced maturity had come into play and her boy had shown them all who was in charge.

When her own dear sister had died, Porcelain and his brother had stepped in to help, taking charge of all the arrangements when she had for once in her life been too broken to do so. Herman Munster had been awkward and nervous, but not _him_. He had not asked too many questions or offered too many sympathies. His were the actions of someone who truly understood loss and respected the process of grief.

The child was nowhere in evidence then, and that was when she had truly begun to see how much a year had changed him. The steel in his spine would not weaken, it would not bend, it would be there to support himself and anyone else that wisely chose to lean upon him.

Little Miss Muffet certainly sensed it. By Senior year, _she_ had sunk her claws into him like a drowning woman who had found a life raft in the middle of the ocean. She climbed upon him, pushed him into the suffocating seas, drove foot-holds into his flesh with no care for the pain they caused. Indeed, never noticing that she was hurting him at all.

Frankenteen and Bilbo Baggins absolutely sensed it. They took out all of their fears and insecurities on him, expecting him to be there with loving support and advice whenever life grew too confusing or scary for them, but rarely thinking to return the favor. Once she invited herself into the Glee Club once again, she could see how instinctively this support was given, and how thoughtlessly it was accepted.

In this respect, Porcelain was not like her in the slightest. She never let anyone take her for granted, believing that to do so would make her weak. Yet, somehow, she could see that he was anything but weak. His journey from child to adult had become complete, and his maturity astounded her. She knew people two and three times his age who could not have handled the string of disappointments and tests he endured with even half as much perseverance and strength.

She had tried to secretly reward that courageous spirit by maneuvering her useless co-director into granting him the long overdue solo at Nationals that he so richly deserved, but her efforts had come to nothing. Curls McSweatervest was deaf to any of his singers' talent except for Elena Rogers Junior.

The only chance she had seen for Porcelain was to create a brand new number he could perform in drag, a way to simultaneously give him the spotlight and yank the rug out from under their rival's secret weapon; Porcelain and Aretha's dress wearing love-child.

And he refused to go for it! After all of the times he had declared himself an honorary girl, after all of the sexually confusing outfits he had proudly worn, after _3 years_ of waiting for an opportunity to steal the limelight, apparently letting people believe for 5 minutes that he might be a transvestite was considered demeaning. Go figure.

At the time, she had believed he was just being stubborn or that perhaps mini Ru Paul was too intimidating to battle on her own turf - which had disappointed her no end, she thought he was made of sterner stuff than that - but now that time had passed and victory had been claimed, she was no longer so certain.

After all, had he not suffered through four long years as a McKinley loser precisely so he _could_ claim the right to be who and whatever he knew himself to be?

Pride flared through her at that realization. Or maybe it was just heart-burn gas caused by the baby.

Her surveillance equipment in the choir room had revealed some disturbing news today. Yet another, far bigger disappointment had come to test her sweet Porcelain. The miniature Schnauzer had groveled her way into that swanky New York theater school to shrilly yap her way through another four years of show-tunes, while Porcelain had been unfairly kicked to the gutters.

Apparently, the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly was not yet complete after all. It was time to use her not-inconsiderable clout to call in a few markers. God knew that enough of her former cheerleaders found homes as chorus dancers on Broadway, though the mere thought of suffering through endless show-tunes for eight shows a week made her lunch bubble uneasily in her stomach.

She tended to keep track of where all of her athletes went after graduation. One never knew when one might require a favor, and most of those girls (and a few boys) were still pathetically grateful to her and completely terrified of her at the same time.

Exactly the way she wanted them.

It shouldn't be too difficult to line Porcelain up a job somewhere. Get his foot in the door and see whether or not he had the gumption to high-kick it out of his way. Get him up on stage and involved in an actual working production months, maybe _years_, earlier than the curly-haired buffoon's little diva. That would serve them just right for never properly appreciating the talents of her protégé.

And the irony would be _delicious_.

Patting the life inside her womb as it shifted, no doubt congratulating her on constructing such a fine plan for its virtually adopted sibling, she smiled.

Some people grew old before their time, worn down and weakened by the daily grind of responsibility and disappointment. If she had anything to say about it, Porcelain was never going to become one of those sad husks, robbed of the dream that would have allowed him to sparkle and shine his light upon the world.

Kurt Hummel was going to get his chance, and he was going to become a star.

Because that was how Sue Sylvester saw it.

**THE END**

**That woman is not easy to write! But she is fun... - Comments?**


	21. Sunset

**I was having a little trouble with my account that required help from the site techies, but everything seems to be ironed out now. On to the final 3rd with only 10 prompt words left to go!**

**I've never tried writing Quinn before. She goes from cool and enigmatic Quinn to 'Scary Quinn' so often that she's tough to get a feel for, but I started thinking and realized that she and Kurt really do have something in common. Another post-"Goodbye" story, because I still haven't quite reconciled my feelings toward that episode.  
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Kurt moved down to the edge of the platform, leaning his arms on the railing and staring off into the direction of the newly departed train. He had always wanted to take a train ride to some exciting destination full of promise and intrigue. It was even on his Bucket List. It had always seemed like such a wonderfully old-fashioned and romantic way to travel.

"So naturally, Rachel gets that too."

The dawn of a new dream, the blazing sunshine of a perfect day, the dusk of a dashed hope, and then Rachel triumphs over all the odds and skips the sunset and nightfall entirely, riding off into a glorious sunrise of new hopes and dreams. The sunset, the ending of all the dearly cherished plans they had made together, was strictly reserved for losers like him.

Sure it was a ridiculously melodramatic analogy, but did anything involving himself and Rachel Berry ever _not_ have a hint of melodrama?

"It isn't easy, is it?" a voice asked from behind him, making Kurt jump and let go a startled squeak. Quinn Fabray offered a small smile and joined him in leaning on the rail. "Sorry. You must have been more lost in thought than I realized. When you said that about Rachel, I thought you knew I was here."

Kurt flushed. He had not meant for anyone to overhear that comment. Attempting to hide his embarrassment, he asked, "What isn't easy?"

Quinn sighed and jutted her chin toward the empty train tracks. "Watching Rachel get everything you ever thought you wanted. It's like she has a golden ticket to life. She just gets handed everything on a silver platter, while people like you and I have to work and struggle and pray to get what we want, and even then we sometimes lose out at the very last minute."

"I don't pray," he said automatically, not knowing how else to respond. In truth, Kurt had never thought about himself and Quinn as having anything in common.

His words unexpectedly caused her to smile. "I know that, but it doesn't change the fact that something out there seems to favor the Rachel Berrys of the world." Turning around, she rested her lower back against the railing so she could watch his face as she spoke. "While the rest of us have to scrounge for every advantage. It may have done us a favor that way, actually."

"How did it do _me_ any favors?" he asked bitterly. "Forgive me, Quinn. I really am happy for you about Yale and your recent recovery and all; you deserve good things after all you've been through and I'm glad you got them. It's just really hard right now to be cheerful for everyone else's success when it feels like fate never does anything but spit on me."

Surprising him, the girl reached out and squeezed his hand in a sisterly fashion, keeping it there until he tentatively turned his palm up and accepted the comforting hold.

"I'm sure it does. You've worked your ass off this year, and I know how hard it is to try and try, and get nothing in return. How it feels to watch all of your expectations crumble right in front of you."

At his questioning look, she raised an eyebrow.

"Do you not remember what I was like sophomore year? I used to think that I knew exactly where life would take me. I had it all planned out before I turned sixteen. I would become captain of the Cheerios and be on top of the food chain all the way until I graduated. I would be Prom Queen for both my junior and senior years, then graduate valedictorian of my class and marry my high school sweetheart. I would have a big church wedding overseen by the same priest who baptized me and attended by my friends, who would all be the _right _kinds of people."

Quinn's lips twisted sarcastically on that sentence, making Kurt smile. He knew full well that the society Quinn had grown up in would never have considered an openly gay, Atheist son of a middle-class small business owner to be the right kind of friend for her.

"And after the wedding, I might have gone to community college and taken whatever classes interested me for a few years, while my husband earned a degree that made him eligible to become a junior partner in my father's business. The two of us would then start a family and have the perfect house on the perfect street in the perfect neighborhood. Nothing bad would ever happen to me again, because my husband and children would worship me, my parents would always be there to love and protect me, and I would live happily ever after in my privileged, white, rich-girl bubble. Basically, I would become my mother as I envisioned her when I was a child."

Kurt's brow scrunched at the prosaic image she painted. "Funny," he commented. "I can't even imagine you living that kind of life now. Two years shouldn't seem like such a long time ago, but I can barely remember the girl you describe."

"Neither can I," she agreed with a smile "and that's the point. Life happens. I made choices both good and bad, I tried hard and failed at some things. Succeeded at others. Lost my way a couple of times and then found it again after I made a new and better plan for myself. I had to let go of the things that I thought I needed in order to figure out what I really wanted."

They fell silent for a few minutes, Quinn serenely sunning herself in a beam that had come to stretch along the railroad platform while Kurt considered her words, applying them to his own situation.

When _he_ had turned sixteen, he had pictured his post high-school life clearly too. He thought that he would have made a good friend by now, but just one because when a boy has no friends at all, a single person who can understand and accept everything about you feels like a treasure beyond imagining.

He had thought that he would graduate high school with honors, making his father so proud that he would accept Kurt's coming out with barely a trace of disappointment. He was sure that he would be leaving behind a successful school career packed with musicals and memorable performances that people would talk about for years. That he would sail smoothly into some sort of theater scholarship so prestigious that it would leave all the Neanderthal bullies in Lima weeping with envy as they reported to their new jobs at McDonalds and Scotty's Septic Service.

He had believed that he would move to New York and find a successful career and his first boyfriend and, like Quinn's fantasy version of herself, live happily ever after.

Only...

"Life happened," he murmured.

Quinn opened her eyes and smiled. As if she had been reading his mind, she asked, "Did yours turn out exactly the way you once imagined?"

"Not at all," he said ruefully.

Glancing down the platform where several of his New Directions friends were still hanging out and socializing, all of them aware of how precious these opportunities now were, his eyes landed on Blaine. The younger boy had not even questioned Kurt's request to be alone for a few minutes, just kissing him on the cheek and wandering off to talk to Artie and Sam. He was currently playing a video game or something on Artie's iPhone, tongue adorably poking out one corner of his mouth as he concentrated. Finn had come back from the walk he had taken after Rachel went on her way, and was now hanging over Sam's shoulder, watching the action on the little touch-screen and pointing out helpful tips that Blaine kept batting away.

Kurt smiled at the sight of them. That lonely sixteen-year-old who had craved just one good friend now had more of them than he could count on both hands. He had a stepbrother whom he loved in an entirely different fashion than that love-lorn little sophomore could ever have imagined. He had a step-mom who loved him almost as much as his real one had, and an amazing dad who had accepted every part of him with unbelievable grace. He had a boyfriend who loved him and was proud of him, and made no secret of either, allowing Kurt the freedom to express his own devotion with every look and touch.

In a tone softened with tender feeling, he said again, "Not at _all_."

Quinn touched his shoulder gently, looking at him with that wise, _motherly_ manner that she sometimes had. "I'm sorry that NYADA didn't work out for you, Kurt. I was really proud of you for having the strength to come here and see Rachel off with a smile today. That isn't easy to do when she has the very thing you thought you wanted most in the world. Believe me, I know."

"You keep saying that," he told her, feeling more curious than upset now. "The thing I _thought_ I wanted. I did want it, Quinn. I wanted it so much I could hardly breathe when I opened that letter. So much that I literally felt my heart breaking when I read what it said."

"I know," she whispered, leaning closer to wrap him in an embrace that was surprisingly full of comfort. She hugged him for a few seconds, and then pulled away, leaving both hands warmly clasping his upper arms. "But be honest with me, Kurt. Be honest with yourself. Wasn't part of the reason you wanted to win that particular school's admission so badly because you knew Rachel was after it, too? Weren't you motivated by knowing that the odds against both of you getting into a program that exclusive, especially with no prior credits to back you up, were astronomical? I know you love Rachel, so do I, but wasn't just a _little_ part of it about finally beating her at something?"

Kurt flushed. With Quinn's serious brown eyes staring into his, demanding honesty, he could not lie to either one of them.

"I never believed I had a chance until I got my letter saying I'd made the Finalist list. Not after the fiasco with 'West Side Story' and the school election and finding out I had been shut out of any spotlight for the planned set-list at Regionals again. When my dad brought me that letter, I suddenly felt hope for the first time," he admitted, choking back a sudden rush of tears. "I got my letter before Rachel did. I nailed my audition when she choked on hers. I _finally_ earned praise for doing things my own way, and from someone with genuine theatrical experience, no less!"

Kurt snuffled and dashed at his nose. "I know it's stupid, but I keep wondering. Do you think that what happened could be Karma for daring to feel a little bit happy about getting something Rachel didn't?"

"No," she told him gently. "I thought more or less the same thing when Finn dumped me for her last year. At a funeral, no less! The thought may have even crossed my mind when I got T-boned by a truck after expressing that I didn't want to go to her wedding. But then I came to my senses and realized that I was giving Rachel Berry far too much credit for the workings of the universe. All those gold stars of hers must have gone to my head."

Surprised by the wryly humorous comment, Kurt laughed, successfully blinking back the tears shimmering in his eyes. "I guess we'd been hanging out with her a little too much if we believed that, huh?"

Quinn laughed too. "If you didn't get into NYADA this year, Kurt, it's because God has a different plan in mind for you. And I know you don't believe in God, and that's okay, but I do believe, and I also believe that there are great things coming for you. You just need to take a step back and try thinking about what _you_ really want. Not you and Rachel, not you and Finn, not you and Blaine . . . just _you_. What does Kurt Hummel really want? And how is he going to get it? Because once you realize, deep down inside, that it really is okay for you to want something just for yourself?" She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Then the universe better watch out, because you'll be unstoppable."

Giving his arm one final squeeze, she walked away toward another group of lingering friends.

Seeing the space next to him empty and Kurt smiling again, Blaine bounced over with the massive energy of a high-density super ball. "Are you okay?" he asked without preamble.

Kurt reached out and drew him into a tight hug, enjoying the happy noise the action pulled from his boyfriend. "I'm good," he sighed. "Maybe not totally happy just yet, but better."

"I'm glad. What did Quinn have to say?"

Kurt smiled. "She just wanted to remind me that we had a few things in common."

Not understanding, but not really caring now that Kurt no longer seemed like he would crack into a million pieces if anyone dared to touch him, Blaine hugged him closer. "I know today was hard for you. This whole week has been," he murmured, "but things will get better from here on out. I know it."

"I believe you," he mumbled back, finding to his surprised that he actually kind of did. "I love you, Blaine. Thanks for sticking with me today."

"Always," he replied quietly, kissing Kurt's neck.

Kurt pulled from his embrace but kept one arm looped around his shoulders as they slowly began the trek down the steps and back out to the parking lot where Blaine's car was waiting. As they passed Quinn Fabray, Kurt gave her a grateful smile and a nod of thanks. Her beautiful eyes glistened a bit as she smiled back and blew a kiss his way.

Kurt did not believe in her God, but he still felt as though he had received a blessing.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	22. Mad

**Okay, yeah, this one is just silly. It's too hot for writing today and my brain went to a weird place. **

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"Thanks for coming out here today, man. It was cool of you to help out."**  
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Kurt rolled his eyes and hitched the heavy camera and small trunk full of lighting materials he was carrying a bit higher into his arms as he followed his friend's wheelchair up a path and into the sizable back yard of a large house in one of the wealthiest areas of Lima.

"Glad to be of service," he grunted, wondering how he had allowed himself to be talked into playing pack-mule as well as performer in Artie's latest directing extravaganza. Especially when Kurt could have been at home sorting through more of his belongings before his upcoming trip to New York. He was leaving Lima for good in just two more weeks, ready to make his way in that grand city in spite of the recent setbacks to his original life-plan.

He might not have made it into NYADA, but Kurt had refused to be kept away from the city of his dreams. He was starting to think that his future might not look so bad, however. He had applied and been granted late acceptance to a small but well-regarded fashion design school in Queens, and was seriously considering the possibility of becoming a costume designer. It would give him an In to the theater world and an occupation he could enjoy while auditioning for his own opportunity in front of the footlights.

In the mean time, Kurt had taken a couple of weekend trips to the city and had found an apartment and a part-time job. The area was a little seedier than he had hoped for, but his new roommate seemed like a nice woman, unlikely to go all serial killer in the night if she'd had a bad day.

That was more than he could have said for the original plan of living with Rachel Berry.

His new school was going to be far less expensive than NYADA, and the location meant that rent would cause considerably less of a drain to his budget as well. Kurt's dad had been funneling money into his college fund since the day he was born and he had made some pretty canny investments to pad that sum over the years. There was more than enough money for Kurt to attend school and not starve along the way, but he wanted to at least partially pay his own way.

The job he had found was at a restaurant that featured singing waiters by day and full-company cabaret shows by night. Lacking an impressive resume, Kurt had sent along with his application a DVD featuring edited recordings of himself performing in the dress rehearsals of "Rocky Horror" and "West Side Story" and the PBS production of New Directions Christmas show. He had been called back and asked to do a second, live audition one on of those weekend trips, where he had met the owners in person. Much to his delight, Kurt had been hired on the spot. It didn't even seem to matter that he had never waited a table in his life. He knew how to run a cash register after years spent working for his father, and he had proven that he could perform as both a soloist and ensemble member. The rest, they had assured him, was just a matter of training.

"Artie, come _on_," Kurt groaned, breaking out of the daydream of his New York future when his weighted arms twinged in protest. Kurt had been following his friend around a huge back yard, stopping every few feet to watch him make framing gestures with his hands and jot down a note in the pad he held in his lap. "Can you figure out the blocking later? This equipment weighs a ton!"

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Artie looked up at him in surprise, blinking as if he had forgotten that Kurt was even there. "Oh, sorry, man! Just put that stuff down over there on the table. We'll get it all set up as soon as the others arrive, then you can finish getting ready." He grinned and rubbed his hands together. "This event is going to be epic!"

He sighed. The _event_ was going to be a pain in the ass. Artie's words had reminded him of exactly how he had gotten involved today.

Artie Abrams had been the man in charge of filming and editing all those production clips that had successfully filled out Kurt's resume. In return for all his hard work, Kurt had agreed to assist the other boy with putting on an '_Alice in Wonderland_' party for a pack of third graders. Kurt Hummel would be spending today in the shoes of the Mad Hatter, while Artie filmed the entire show.

The birthday girl's father was some kind of local cable TV magnate and Artie intended to impress him with his "mad directorial skills".

Brittany (Alice), Sugar (the Door-mouse), Joe (the March Hare - the guy did terrific crazy eyes) and Blaine (the White Rabbit) had also agreed to participate, either for fun or because they knew it would not hurt their own college resumes next year.

Kurt still wasn't sure why he was the only one 'lucky' enough to be hauling camera equipment, though.

"You sure the birthday girl won't throw a tantrum when she doesn't get to be Alice?" Kurt asked, rubbing his aching shoulder and trying to coax some feeling back into his right hand as he set the heavy equipment box down. "Most kids would."

Artie shrugged. "No, I asked but apparently she just wants to have tea with the whole Wonderland gang and be Alice's best friend today. She's turning nine today. Who was I to argue?"

A smile tilted Kurt's lips. "I must admit, I wouldn't have minded either at her age. Especially if I got all the presents. How are we doing that, by the way? You said you had an idea?"

The other boy's grin could have lit up a stadium. "It's gonna be wicked. Her parents will bring the gifts out here and each time somebody in costume arrives for tea and birthday cake, they'll present her with one of the gifts from some secret location. Brittany's pinafore pockets, Joe's waistcoat, your hat, and so on. Actually, we can probably stuff three or four things up in that hat," he laughed. "It's huge!"

Unlike the others, who would be dressing when they arrived, Kurt had arrived in his own self-created costume. It was a perfect, artistically threadbare recreation of a Victorian gentleman's ensemble, from the white spats covering his polished black shoes to the high starched collar around his throat. There was a tattered hem here, a missing button there, a kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics that did not _quite_ match each other, and best of all, a hat. It was a deep green velveteen topper that added a least a foot to his height and flared out at the top. He had found it in an antique store and refurbished it with brass buttons and gold braid coiled in artistic patterns all over the fabric.

Kurt smiled, patting his waistcoat pockets, from which a pair of miniature scissors and a fat, decorative pincushion hung. He may not have been overly excited when Artie asked him to do this, but nobody was going to say that he did not give his all to the part. He had even purchased these accessories for the event, knowing the moment he saw them that they would be absolutely perfect. He had spent the last couple of days practicing mentally unbalanced expressions in the mirror, intending to add Artie's footage to his collection of audition materials.

If he had his way, this performance would serve him well in both the acting and costuming areas of his future.

Soon enough, the others arrived and were made up to look their parts. Sugar and Brittany were happily invested in their characters and Kurt knew that the young party-goers would adore them. Brittany had even brought her cat along, explaining that he wanted to play the part of the Cheshire Cat. Sadly, she had not been able to coax a smile out of him all morning.

From what Kurt could see, Tubbington's acting method mostly included testing any food item left in his vicinity. To make sure it wasn't poisoned, or so Brittany claimed.

Blaine had given Joe a ride to the house and once they were in their outfits, Kurt could not help cooing a little over how cute they both looked. Blaine was covered head to toe in a snow-white bunny costume, his nose covered in black makeup with a pair of tiny round spectacles perched upon the bridge. Over the costume, he wore Kurt's gray and black plaid waistcoat and one of his own bright and colorful bow ties, also carrying an antique pocket watch that he told them had belonged to his great grandfather. It no longer ran, but it definitely added flair to his image.

Joe was also in a full costume, this one brown, but his had no hood. Sugar had managed, in some mysterious manner that shouldn't have worked and yet totally did, to twist his long dreadlocks up into a perfect approximation of rabbit ears. One was even flopping forward over his eyes, giving him an appropriately deranged air. Joe himself seemed to be into the fun of the occasion, hiding presents inside his long black frock coat, and keeping his usual laid-back manner intact when their young guests arrived. He barely made a sound until about five minutes into the party, when he randomly screamed and threw a plastic butter dish at Blaine, then settled right back down to sip his tea again.

It scared the crap out of his friends, but the dozen little boys and girls surrounding the long table just giggled and begged him to do it again. And ten minutes later, when nobody was expecting it, he did, firing a cookie at Kurt and nearly knocking his hat off.

The kids were utterly charmed by all five of them.

Throughout the party, Blaine kept fidgeting and shaking his watch, muttering "Oh, dear. . ." at regular intervals and nervously rattling his teacup in its saucer, then asking a random child for the time.

Brittany did not really give a performance. She just acted like her usual self, seriously informing all of the kids that the Cheshire Cat was feeling offended today and preferred to be addressed by his proper name. Since 'Lord Tubbington' fit quite well within the whole Victorian theme, nobody batted an eye. They simply offered the visiting dignitary a cup of milk-diluted tea and a piece of cake, which to Kurt's total lack of surprise, the beast snapped down in about two bites.

Sugar charmed every child around. Her long hair was piled up inside a miniature black-lace-decorated top hat - Kurt recognized it as one of Tina's - and her ears were covered in furry little caps. She pretended to fall asleep on whoever was closest to her, 'waking' every so often to stand up and give a dramatic recitation of some song or poem.

Kurt was another crowd favorite. From the way he periodically produced a gift or trinket from his coat and hat, to the way he drew every child present into nonsensical conversation (three years of friendship with Brittany came in handy sometimes), singing mixes of songs that had nothing whatsoever to do with one another (Thank you, Mr. Shue and your insane love of mash-ups!) and reciting nursery rhymes whenever the mood took him.

Finally, all of the teenagers stood together to sing Happy Birthday to the girl of honor, each producing one final gift from his or her costume as they did so, and then they all retreated as the celebration dissolved into a frenzy of paper and ribbon tearing and the squealing of 3rd graders.

"That was epic, yo!" Artie cheered, wheeling forward and offering each of them a joyful fist-bump and a small handful of cash. "Spoils of the day, my friends. We should totally start our own party business. Imagine how much green we' could rake in before summer ends!"

Whipping a large paisley handkerchief from his coat, Kurt dabbed his sweating face. "Not me, thank you. This was fun, but frock coats and ninety degree heat do not mix. Get me to some air conditioning, stat!"

The others agreed eagerly. The parents had set up large circulating fans all around the area to keep everyone as cool as they could but these costumes still left the performers less than comfortable. They waved and called goodbye to the party-goers, many of whom rushed over for goodbye hugs, and Brittany collected her cat, who protested noisily over being made to leave his 3rd slice of birthday cake

"Man, I never thought I'd actually long for a Slushie facial, but bring it on," Blaine groaned, fanning his face with both hands and removing his hood as they entered the house and headed into the two guest rooms where their clothing was laid out.

Kurt nodded agreement, taking off his hat, coat and vest with relief. He had worn his outfit over so he could not, unfortunately, change into cool clothes until he got home, but just losing a couple of layers helped immensely. Still, it had been fun and it would be worth it when he added this performance to his video resume.

Suddenly, Kurt was distracted by a trickle of sweat trekking slowly down Blaine's cheek and neck, disappearing under the low collar of the tank top he had been wearing beneath his costume. Leaning closer so that Joe, who was grumbling as he attempted to find all the wires Sugar had threaded through his hair, would not overhear him, Kurt asked Blaine, "Want to come back to my house and find if I have any more _presents_ hidden under my costume?"

"Is everyone out today?" he asked, eyes lighting up.

He was a rather comical sight with the black bunny nose and glasses, but Kurt did not hesitate to swoop in for a quick kiss. Opportunities like this were precious with only a couple of weeks of daily togetherness left.

"Yes, they are. We should have the place to ourselves for at least two hours." Flicking Blaine's pocket watch, now dangling rather suggestively at the front of his waist, Kurt grinned. "I believe you and I have a _very_ important date that we don't want to be late for."

He laughed, fluttering his long lashes teasingly. "Surely you aren't implying that you'd like to go down the rabbit hole. Sounds a little crazy."

Kurt nipped his earlobe and murmured,"Of course it is, my dear. Fortunately, as it happens, I am completely and totally mad . . . for _you_."

"Yo!" Artie called out suddenly, wheeling into the room and causing them to remember where they were and that there was an audience present. "Kurt, I'm all packed up. Can you help me load my equipment back into the car? We got to get started editing this puppy so all y'all can have a copy."

Kurt groaned, partly because of the interruption and partly over the idea of lugging that heavy camera and box back into Artie's van. Mr. Abrams had had the vehicle automated last year when Artie turned 16 so that he could operate it on his own, and stow his wheelchair without help, but he still required assistance when it came to transporting heavy materials.

"I rode in with him," he sighed, meeting Blaine's equally disappointed gaze. "I better get to it. It'll take a while to get everything loaded back inside his house."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed reluctantly, "and I need to get Joe back to his place."

Joe's eyes tracked back and forth from one to the other, a thoughtful expression on his face. The dreadlocked boy smiled. "Or, _I_ can help Artie with his equipment in exchange for a ride home, and you can ride back with Blaine." They looked at him in surprise and he shrugged one well-muscled shoulder. "Seems only fair after Kurt put these costumes together and carried everything in. I don't mind."

Kurt was touched. Ever since the day he had decided that his religious beliefs should not force him to condemn other people for who they loved, Joe had subtly become one of Kurt and Blaine's biggest supporters. "Thanks, Joe," he said sincerely, shaking the boy's offered hand.

"It's cool. You gotta make the most of the time you have. I get it."

Artie finally seemed to catch up, a surprised look stealing over his features. "Oh, hey, absolutely! I'll email you the MP3 when its finished."

Blaine, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, grinned at them both and grabbed Kurt's arm. Without another word, he took off toward the front door at a determined pace, his laughing boyfriend stumbling along behind him and carefully snatching up discarded costume pieces along the way.

After all, just because there were no plans for clothing in his immediate future was no reason to treat these with disrespect.

As today's events had proved, one just never knew when the right ensemble might come in handy.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	23. Thousand

**PLEASE READ: For this prompt, I used the AU I created for my own "Everything Old is New Again", a future-fic in which Kurt and Mike (who came out after high school, unbeknownst to most of his friends) met again at 28 years old, having experienced love, independence, heartbreak and life, leaving both ready to settle down with the right person. At the end of the story, they were living in NY, happily married and brand new fathers to a set of boy/girl twins. This takes place 3 months later.**

**Warnings for lots of making out. :)  
**

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Kurt hummed softly in his sleep, arching into the sensation of quick, soft kisses being rained over his face and neck. His eyelids fluttered drowsily and a smile drifted across his lips when he realized that he was not dreaming after all. His husband was kissing his way along the shell of Kurt's left ear with great concentration, as if afraid that he might miss a spot.

"That tickles," Kurt mumbled, smiling and squirming a little.

Realizing that he was awake, Mike gave up on Kurt's ear and pressed a smiling kiss to his mouth, continuing right down his chin and along the path to his Adam's Apple and the hollow above his breastbone.

"Mmm, not that I'm objecting," Kurt sighed, shifting again when Mike's hands began to get involved in the action, stroking light patterns along his bare torso, "but to what do I owe the pleasure of this amazing wake-up call?"

Since their son and daughter had been born three months ago, leisurely awakenings and slow, gentle lovemaking had pretty much become a fond memory. These days the two of them were lucky most of the time if they managed to stay awake long enough to share a kiss goodnight.

"Tuesday," Mike explained cryptically.

Kurt frowned, trying to figure out what that meant. "So, you're saying that you want a quickie before you go off to work?"

Since each of them controlled his own schedule, Kurt as a voice instructor and Mike as a private dance coach, they had been splitting their time between lessons and dad-duty. Kurt went into his Manhattan studio on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and stayed home with the babies on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays while Mike went to work. Sunday was family day and pretty much the only time the two of them got to spend together any more.

Mike's lips had made their way down to Kurt's belly button, which he was teasing with tiny licks and kisses, making his husband squirm and laugh. "Nope," he said cheerfully, nipping a small fold of skin gently.

A gasp escaped as Mike began playfully outlining the ridges of his abdomen with the tip of his tongue, pausing to kiss each lightly delineated bump. "Hunh . . . oh, crap, that feels good," he hissed when his playful lover kissed his way back up the bumps of Kurt's ribcage and began focusing his attention on each of Kurt's peaked pink nipples. Struggling to get his brain working again, he glanced at the clock, seeing that it was nearly 8am and ventured, "Well, aren't you worried about being late to work? Your first class is at eight thirty on Tuesdays."

Playfully hitching his eyebrows, Mike's laughing brown eyes twinkled up at him as he said, "Jody is taking over for me. I've got all day. Why, you have some place you need to be?"

"No, b-but you . . . I mean . . . I thought."

It was getting harder and harder to make sense as Mike continued his blissful torment.

Taking pity on him, Mike hitched himself higher on the bed, settling his weight on top of Kurt as he returned to his mouth for a few long, passionate kisses. "I arranged for Jody to take my shift over two weeks ago, because I wanted my calendar completely free today," he confessed. "And yours is about to become free too. I've arranged to have Emily and Elise come by in about an hour to pick up the kids for a 24 hour babysitting gig."

A surprised expression lit Kurt's features as he suddenly realized upon the mention of their children, that he had slept an entire night undisturbed. "Did you take twin duty all by yourself last night?"

At three months old, Melody and Flynn were just starting to get the hang of sleeping through the night, but so far it had been a rocky road. If one wasn't waking up wanting a bottle, diaper change or some fatherly attention, the other one was. Kurt and Mike had quickly developed into efficient care-takers, but the constant onslaught of infant demand was exhausting.

Mike yawned at the reminder. "I may have. Okay, yes, I did, but the kids only woke me once. They're getting better at that whole sleep when it's dark out thing."

Kurt laughed and stroked both hands through Mike's thick black hair, scraping his fingernails lightly along the other man's scalp in the way that made him almost purr with contentment. "You're too good to me."

"I could never be too good to you," Mike countered with a smile, pecking Kurt's lips again. "You deserve the best of everything, always."

"No more than you do," he replied, sprinkling a few kisses of his own over Mike's face. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about? It's a little early for Christmas, and I know it's not our anniversary."

He grinned. "No, but you're close."

Kurt pressed his hands lightly against his husband's T-shirt covered chest. Curiosity piqued by the fun his mate was clearly having with this mystery, he asked, "Can I have a hint?"

Mike pondered the question for a moment, then sang him a verse from one of Kurt's favorite musicals.

_Live in my house_  
_I'll be your shelter_  
_Just pay me back_  
_With one thousand kisses_  
_Be my lover - I'll cover you_

Since Mike almost never sang voluntarily, Kurt was even more confused by the clue. "Um...there's a new production of "Rent" beginning somewhere and you're taking me to see it?"

"No, although we could definitely go see a show today if you want to. Try again. The hint is in the lyrics themselves."

"That doesn't really help. We're already at home. You _are_ my lover and you were doing a pretty fine job of covering me in kisses just now."

He grinned even wider. "You almost had it. How many kisses?"

Eyes narrowing in confusion, he ventured, "One thousand?"

"Right! When did we meet, Kurt? Like, not the first time in high school, but when it really mattered. When did we meet, exactly."

Kurt thought back to that moment, nearly three years ago, when he'd gone home to see his family in Lima with his heart, hopes and self-esteem in tatters from the betrayal of having been cheated on. He remembered that first surprise meeting with a man he had not seen in nearly ten years. Kurt smiled, recalling the way his heart had unexpectedly stuttered back to life within a few days of that defining moment. "March, 2022. The fifteenth, I think?"

"That's right. Exactly two years, eight months and twenty-five days ago."

He considered that for a few moments, then guessed, "One thousand days?"

"Exactly! Happy first milliversary, darling," Mike said, kissing him deeply again.

Gladly playing along for a few seconds, Kurt finally could not hold back a laugh. "Milliversary? Is that even a real thing?"

"Sure! Well, maybe. It is for us. Because one thousand days ago, you changed my entire life for the better. I still remember the way I felt the first time I saw you, sitting on your dad's front porch steps in the cold, with no shoes and what looked like Burt's old clothes on, and a face that seemed like you were about to cry. You looked so vulnerable, and so beautiful, and so amazingly strong all at the same time. I think I fell a little bit in love with you right then and there."

Kurt was touched. "You never told me that before. I didn't think I had enough of a heart left at that moment to fall in love, but I definitely knew that I felt drawn to you. I made an excuse to visit you the very next day with Finn, telling myself I just wanted to catch up with our old friend, but the truth was that every time we spoke it just made me want to spend even more time with you." He shook his head. "One thousand days. That sounds like such a long time, but it doesn't feel that way at all. Not after everything that's happened."

"Friendship, courtship, engagement, marriage, fatherhood," Mike listed. "It's a lot of living for such a short span of time, and this is just the beginning for us."

"So, what exactly is the approved method for celebrating a _milliversary_?" Kurt asked with a smile, wrapping his arms around Mike's neck. "I'm sure you know, because it seems to me that you've been planning for this occasion for a while."

Mike licked his lips. "I was thinking maybe we'd start with those thousand kisses. I haven't been keeping a very good count, but I'm sure we can get somewhere in the ballpark if we try hard."

"Sounds like a good plan," Kurt agreed, his voice husky with want as he raised his head to meet Mike's lips. It had been far too long since they had had the time to make out like teenagers.

They lay in bed, kissing and touching for an undetermined length of time until the sound of happy babbling from the baby monitor interrupted the moment. The two fathers looked at each other and laughed when the cooing nonsense suddenly doubled, taking on an almost harmonious quality.

"I swear, they are going to be more into performing than their parents when they get a little older," Kurt declared. "Doesn't it almost sound like they're trying to sing together?"

Mike chuckled. "It's our own fault for allowing Rachel to supply the maternal half of their DNA. I strongly suspect that she came out of Shelby's womb already belting show-tunes. Between her genes and yours, what else could we expect?"

"Hey, now. Don't forget that Melly shares _your_ DNA, oh great Asian dance master. It's not my fault if your little swimmer danced his way into the arms of a baby-Barbra."

"Do eggs _have_ arms?"

"Shut up and go see to your children," Kurt laughed, smacking him playfully on the shoulder.

"What about you?"

Kurt wriggled out of his husband's arms and stood, striking a flirty fist-on-hip pose when he caught the other man ogling his butt. "I'm going to grab a quick shower and put on some clothes before Em and El show up and become scandalized for life."

Mike burst into hearty peals of laughter. "Oh, sure. The day Emily Switek starts fanning herself like a maiden with the vapors over the sight of a little man-flesh is the day I fly to Tibet and become a monk."

"Oh, don't do that. I'd have to go with you and I could never pull off the hair cut."

"Not to mention the need to keep our hands off each other 24/7."

Kurt grinned wickedly and slapped his husband on the rump. "That too."

They split up for the twenty minutes it took Kurt to clean up and dress, and Mike to change two diapers and fetch his hungry offspring a pair of formula bottles, then Kurt joined his husband in the nursery and settled into one of the two rocking chairs with his son. Mike walked the floor with his daughter, who always seemed to prefer a little exercise with her breakfast.

"So, tell me. Are there activities planned for this thousandth day celebration, or does it just involve a lot of making out? Because honestly I'd be fine with either one," Kurt teased, hitching Flynn up against his towel covered left shoulder and patting his back until a good-sized belch escaped.

Mike did the same for Melody, who managed to produce a guttural noise that put her brother to shame.

"Nice one," Mike praised her, switching babies with Kurt as their little boy began to fuss, no longer content to lie still now that he was fed and comfortable. Addressing his husband, he said, "I tried to come up with a few appropriate activities. I thought we'd start by going into town and having breakfast at Kirkland's. Did you know their jumbo croissant sandwiches and a full-fat mocha with whip are almost exactly a thousand calories?"

Kurt winced. "No, and I did not need to know that. You know that used to be my favorite on-the-go breakfast when I was single." When Mike just continued to grin at him, he smiled. "I guess it won't hurt to have one for old times' sake."

"And then I was thinking we could go to the arboretum and visit that massive Christmas display they have going."

"The one that advertises that they have a thousand varieties of holiday enjoyment for the whole family? I think I'm sensing a pattern here."

Dark eyes sparkling, Mike said, "And of course we'll need to be sure to stop and make out every so often, just to make sure our kissing average doesn't fall below the minimum."

Kurt grinned. "Well, if we _must_."

"I wanted to take you on a hot air balloon ride, because they're advertised as floating 1000 feet above the city, but apparently those companies all in the off-season."

Rising from his chair, Kurt shifted his daughter over a bit so he could kiss the disappointed look off his husband's face. "We'll do it for our wedding anniversary in June. In the mean time, we can go shopping and find ourselves a nice thousand piece jigsaw puzzle."

Mike's eyes lit up, glad to find that Kurt was into the spirit of the occasion. "That could be fun. My sister and I used to do puzzles together."

"Yes, and that sounds lovely but not tonight, okay? This is going to be our first full day alone in over three months. I don't want to waste a minute of it. Now, I believe you said something about going to a show tonight? I happen to know the perfect one for us."

He looked interested. "Oh?"

"Yep. '_Glowing in the Dark_' just had its one thousandth show last month. We'll be a few performances over the mark, but it will still fit in with the general theme of the day."

"I like it," Mike agreed happily, "and when that's over, we'll call Em to check on the kids, because I know we'll both be dying for an update by then. And if all is well, we'll come back home and I'll make you stove top burgers and fries, like I did our first night together in New York."

Kurt's heart suddenly felt like it was about to explode from the sheer amount of love bursting from within it. "I can't believe you remember that. If you keep this up, I may just have to take you _dancing_ tonight, Mr. Chang-Hummel."

Leaning closer to give him a deep kiss, then laughing as the babies took this opportunity to grab both of their faces, Mike said, "I can't think of any way I'd rather end the day, Mr. Chang-Hummel."

From the front of the house, the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of their dear friends and volunteer baby sitters.

"Time to go see Aunty Em and Ellie, little ones!" Mike chirped, bouncing Kurt's tiny doppleganger in his arms and making the baby boy laugh, which made his sister laugh too and pat Kurt on the nose so he would pretend to nip at her fingers. "Let's get you on your way so that Daddy and I can go back to our room and have a nice long dance rehearsal before breakfast."

"Mike!" Kurt laughed. "Don't say that in front of them!"

"What? It's a euphemism! And you started it. They don't know what we're talking about anyway."

Kurt blushed, unable to hide his grin as he opened the door to his dear friend and her wife. "Hi Em, Elise. Thank you so much for doing this for us!"

"Happy to, kid," Emily told him, making grabby-hands at the baby. "Now gimme that little munchkin!"

Kurt handed Melody over with a slightly reluctant air, as Mike did the same with Elise and Flynn. He was looking forward to spending the day alone with his husband, but this was the first time they had both been away from their children at the same time and he could not help feeling a pang of worry.

Fortunately, after more than ten years as friends, Emily could read him like a book. "Don't get your undies in a twist, Daddy. You know they're in good hands. The four of us are gonna have a blast together, and _you_ two are going to take it easy, have fun, and get a good night of uninterrupted sleep." Looking them up and down, and detecting the higher than usual color still infusing Kurt's cheeks, she smirked. "Or a good night of uninterrupted _something_ anyway. I expect details if you choose Door number 2."

"Not a chance," he laughed, kissing her on the cheek and then kissing both babies as Mike returned from a quick trip to get the twins' prepacked diaper bags, each loaded with enough supplies and changes of clothing for a dozen babies.

A few minutes and a lot of fussing and reminders later, both parents waved goodbye a little sadly until their friends' car was out of sight.

"Think they'll be all right?" Kurt asked wistfully, leaning into Mike's embrace.

He nodded. "Yeah, they'll be fine. Think _we'll_ be all right?"

Kurt laughed. "We will if we keep ourselves well distracted all day."

"Where would you like to start?"

"Well, if we're really going to breakfast at Kirklands, then I think we need to burn off some calories first," Kurt decided, shutting the door with his foot and pressing his husband up against it, brushing his lips against Mike's well-defined jawline. "Plus, I think I have a few kisses I need to catch up on."

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	24. Outside

**The First Night**

The sound of small paws scraping at a closed door. A high-pitched whimper that started out soft and then became increasingly loud and upset when the call was not immediately answered.

Kurt groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, waiting for Blaine to wake up and deal with the noisy intrusion. A few seconds passed, nearly a full minute and the whining was growing increasingly plaintive.

Shaking his snoring boyfriend none-too-gently, Kurt ordered, "Wake up!"

Blaine grunted. "Wha-?"

"Your dog wants to go out," Kurt grumbled.

"We don' have a dog," the other man mumbled, settling right back into a snore again.

Kurt jabbed him hard in the ribs, causing a snort and a grumpy, "Hey!"

"Get up, Blaine. _We_ don't have a dog, but as of three o'clock this afternoon, _you_ do. Remember? The muddy little stray that you insisted needed a good home and just _had_ to have ours? The one I didn't want but agreed to take in only because you swore up and down that you would take full responsibility for it?"

He blinked a few times, finally seeming to hear the cries from the other side of the bedroom door. "Oh. That dog."

"Yes, that dog. The one that better not have just peed on my new carpet because _somebody_ forgot to take it outside."

Rustling and thumping filled the room as Blaine fished his slippers out from under the bed and trudged to the closed door. The hallway light clicked on and Kurt rolled over to avoid the brightness, hiding his face in the pillow with a groan when he heard his boyfriend yelp and crash into the wall, hissing a few words he couldn't make out. A moment later, Blaine's sheepish voice called out, "Uh, Kurt?"

**The Second Night**

"Oh, my God. Blaine! Wake up and put your dog outside. Do you want a repeat of last night?"

"Nooo! Sleeeeep!"

"Blaine? Get up and put the dog out, or I swear I will start a bonfire with your bow tie collection tomorrow."

Blaine rolled out of bed, barely even opening his eyes as he stumbled to the door. "You're really mean at three a.m."

"**_Zzzzzz_**."

**Nights Three through Six**

"Blaine! Dog!"

"Nnnph. Yeah, got it. Going."

"Good."

**The Seventh Night**

"Oh, for…! Again? That mutt must have a bladder the size of a pea!"

Kurt reached over, intending to wake his boyfriend to make him go tend to his incontinent little friend again, but paused. Blaine had been getting up with his dog every night. He had been training it with great devotion all week and the carpet had remained gratifyingly intact for the last 48 hours.

Okay, yes. That deserved a reward.

Slipping out of bed and borrowing Blaine's slippers, Kurt cracked open the door and moved out into the hallway. He could hear the excited huffing of a panting dog and feel sharp-nailed little paws bouncing against his leg.

"Yeah, yeah, Daddy's grouchy boyfriend is doing the honors tonight," he muttered. "Let's go, you adorable little fleabag."

Apparently, he had said something right. The animal turned and raced down the hall, through the living room and over to the front door.

Kurt followed and felt his way to the leash on the side table; clipping it to the dog's small red collar and fumbling open the locks on the front door.

He moved down the front steps and allowed himself to be led to a promising patch of scrubby lawn on the sidewalk outside their apartment, wishing he had grabbed a coat or at least a bathrobe when the night air struck his skin through the thin t-shirt and pajama pants he had worn to bed and made him shiver.

They made it halfway around the block before the dog sniffed out the ideal location to relieve itself. Kurt yawned. "It's about time. Let's go home."

Apparently feeling much better, the dog, a fifteen pound mixture of fluffy, buff-and-black colored every-breed that Blaine had jokingly named Katy, yapped excitedly and began frisking around Kurt's legs. It tugged the leash in its tiny teeth and bounced to and fro, trying to convince the human that now was an excellent time to play.

"I don't want to play," Kurt told her.

The dog put her chin to the ground, butt in the air and wagged at him, apparently trying to convince him otherwise.

"No. Blaine is the soft touch around here, Missy. I'm the mean man who isn't impressed by cute little puppy tricks at," he checked his watch and saw the number 2:23am glowing back at him. "Shit."

To Kurt's complete surprise, the dog sat, pink tongue bobbing out of its mouth as it stared up at him and waited for another command.

"What are you doing? I didn't say . . ." He laughed then, realizing. "Oh. I suppose they do sound kind of similar. Has Blaine been teaching you how to sit?"

The dog yapped, apparently deciding she had been good long enough as she hopped to her feet and began tugging at the cuff of Kurt's sleep-pants.

"No!" he said sharply, a bit surprised when the dog immediately let go. Curious to see if it would work, he said clearly, "Sit, Katy."

The dog sat.

"Well, I'll be…" Backing up a few steps, he held his hands up and crooned, "Stay. Stay, Katy. There's a good girl."

She continued to sit for a few seconds, then evidently decided that Kurt intended to leave her behind and dashed after him, barking frantically.

"Whoa, whoa, easy puppy! I wasn't going home without you," Kurt soothed, scooping the little dog into his arms and immediately feeling guilty when he realized that she was shivering. He had no idea what had caused her to become a stray in the first place, if she had been lost, abandoned, or wandered away in curiosity and failed to be found again, but he instantly felt like a monster for scaring the poor thing. "I'm sorry, honey. I promise I wasn't going to abandon you. I just wanted to see if Blaine had taught you a new trick."

The pup perked its scruffy little ears at the mention of Blaine, cocking its head to one side and making Kurt grin.

"You know his name, huh? Do you know Kurt? Huh? That's me. Kurt."

A sharp yip met this introduction and Kurt laughed.

"That's right. Now, we'd better go home and get some sleep or one of us isn't going to be able to get up in time for work tomorrow. I don't suppose you're any good at writing articles?" The dog just stared at him curiously. "Didn't think so."

He went back around the block to the steps of his and Blaine's small townhouse apartment. To his surprise, Blaine was just coming outside, a worried look on his face when he saw Kurt walking up with the dog in his arms.

"Is everything okay? I woke up and you were gone. Did she run away or something?"

"No, we just thought we'd be nice and let you sleep," Kurt told him, brushing a kiss to Blaine's cheek and then laughing with him when Katy also licked Blaine's face. "We went for a stroll around the block but we got a little tired. Next time, it's her turn to carry me home."

Blaine grinned, happy to see that Kurt wasn't upset about being awakened in the middle of the night for dog-owner duty. "You're starting to like her, aren't you?"

Not quite willing to admit it just yet, Kurt shrugged. "Eh, she grows on you."

"Ha! I knew it. She'll be sleeping at the foot of our bed and begging table scraps from you before you know it."

"She will most certainly not! She has her own absurdly expensive dog food to eat, and a very nice padded doggy bed to sleep in. She doesn't need to share ours."

Blaine gave him a soulful look that the puppy instantly copied. "But Kurt, she's our baby!"

Kurt snorted. "Don't push it, Curly."

As they went back inside, Blaine grinned and gave his new pet a thumbs-up.

A week later, Katy rolled over and sat up with her paws in the air, earning herself a round of delighted applause and a meatball from Kurt's plate of spaghetti.

Two days after that, they finished their evening walk with Katy curled at Kurt's feet on the bed while he edited an article on upcoming fall fashion trends on his laptop.

By the end of the first month, Blaine had his new friend completely housebroken and trained to ask for walks at precisely 10pm, 6am and 4pm.

A year later, Kurt Hummel had completely forgotten that he had ever objected to owning a dog.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


	25. Winter

**This goes out to WickedPixii for reminding me of a few things that have been bugging me about "Heart" since it aired in February. A.) That Kurt isn't stupid, so why did he not have a clue? B.) That teenagers in love call/text each other as regularly as breathing, so why didn't they? C.) They're such a cute, playful couple. Did they seriously get each other _nothing_ for their shared favorite holiday?**

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Winter was Kurt's favorite season of the year. It was a time of stylish winter coats, boots that could be worn with absolutely any outfit without raising eyebrows, and scarves for every occasion. It was the season of Christmas trees and New Year's kisses and Valentine hearts.

Most especially, the latter.

Valentine's Day was Blaine's self-proclaimed favorite holiday, and this year would be the first time either of them would have the opportunity to celebrate the day of romance with a boyfriend. Kurt had wanted nothing more, especially after last year's holiday heartbreak, than to make this day special.

Unfortunately, an ill-timed bit of chivalry in the face of a certain Meerkat with a dangerously altered Slushie had taken Blaine out of circulation just in time to ruin the couple's initial plan for a school day filled with notes and cards and secret little gifts left in cute heart-bedecked wrappers.

Even so, the day did not have to be ruined. Blaine had been texting hints for two weeks about how he planned to shower his boyfriend in gifts and flowers, and hinting at "a big surprise" for Valentine's Day.

He lived up to his word on the first promise. During Valentine's week, Kurt came home every day from school to find cute stuffed animals, little packages containing quirky broaches and pins, designer cheesecakes, and a different variety of winter-blooming flower waiting on his front porch every day. As for the surprise, Blaine refused to give anything away, no matter how much Kurt pestered him. He just told Kurt to enjoy the day, even though he himself would be spending most of it engaged with a badly-timed Doctor's appointment, and that he would see him later.

Kurt, refusing to be thwarted for the second year running, had a few surprises of his own. He had been sending little gifts all week as well. He had started with a joke gift. A 6-pack of chap-stick and a set of sturdy six-inch high stilts, because Blaine had been complaining about always having to tilt his head back to kiss him. Next was an invitation to the upcoming McKinley Winter Formal, complete with a limo gift-certificate. Next came the biggest bouquet of winter lilies and roses that he could find, and an invitation to meet Kurt for a romantic dinner as soon as he was fully recovered. He even playfully instructed Blaine to wear his best monkey suit. His boyfriend wasn't as into formal attire as Kurt was, but he knew how much Kurt loved seeing him in a tuxedo. Really, it just . . . _did_ things to him.

Blaine had texted yesterday with a 'LOL, I'll have to borrow a tiara and some of Finn's suit pants if you expect me to wear all of this together when we go to dinner!'. This was followed by another reminder to be expecting a special surprise on Valentine's Day.

When the little gifts began showing up in Kurt's locker and in all of his classes on February 14th, he was absolutely thrilled. How sweet was it that Blaine would go to all this trouble, probably arranging delivery secretly through Kurt's other friends, just to give him a nice day even though he couldn't be here to enjoy it with him!

The desire to call Blaine and gush his thanks was powerful, but Kurt held strong. His boyfriend would be at the doctor's by now, and wouldn't be able to answer. Besides, it wouldn't do to spoil his big plan. Blaine always teased him about having no patience when it came to presents, so this time he would force himself to wait and just enjoy the experience.

Because, seriously? Pretending to be a Secret Admirer for Valentine's Day, _just_ so Kurt could tick one more long cherished item off of his Bucket List? Most. Romantic. Gesture. EVER.

How Blaine could _ever_ have thought that he was bad at romance was truly a mystery to Kurt.

When the Gorilla-Gram showed up at lunch-time, complete with an adorable stuffed monkey, Kurt had been sure that Blaine was about to end the string of surprises with an appearance at school. Perhaps even to sing him an epic serenade in his tuxedo! That would be amazingly appropriate after the GAP fiasco last Valentine's. And really, what else could it mean?

But the day continued on and still no Blaine. Just another handful of cute, thrift-store Valentine cards. A surprisingly childish selection for his favorite dapper gentleman to choose, actually. Blaine tended to favor long, flowery, poetic cards from Hallmark.

Still, Kurt refused to let that bother him. After all, being laid up all those weeks meant that a box of assorted cards was probably all he had been able to get his hands on. Especially considering that Blaine's mother had probably made the actual purchase, and after all, who would ever want their _parents_ reading sentimental thoughts to their lover?

When a delivery of butterscotch candy (Which Blaine _knew_ Kurt hated...how strange...oh well, there must have been a mix up when he tried to order Kurt's favorite caramels.) showed up in his locker after the final bell, with a typed note asking to meet an hour before Sugar's party at Breadstix, Kurt's excitement knew no bounds.

So _that_ was why Blaine hadn't called or showed up at school! The surprise must be a romantic dinner for two!

In fact, Kurt did not care by this point if dinner failed to include a serenade, roses, or other traditional pieces of symbolism. His boyfriend's doctor appointment must have gone well. He must finally be well enough to have been allowed out of his house for an evening!

Kurt checked his appearance carefully in the mirror, pressing a finger kiss to the smiling picture of Blaine that adorned the door of his locker before hurrying out to keep his appointment.

He could not wait any longer. Kurt Hummel, was _finally_ going to get the Valentine's date of his dreams.

**THE END**

**Poor Kurt. Of course we all know by now that it was more of a nightmare, but I could just see Kurt deliberately shoving aside all logic in favor of romantic expectation. - Comments?**


	26. Diamond

**This is one of those stories that was more inspired by the prompt word than actually based around it. Oh, and if Kurt's childhood memory seems a bit familiar to some of you, that's because it references another short fic I wrote as part of the Burt+Kurt "Moments" collection.**

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"C'mon, Kurt! Please? We could really use another player. It will be fun, I promise!"

"Fun?" he replied incredulously, staring at his step-brother like the other teen had grown a second head. "Finn, I barely pay enough attention when Dad watches to even understand the rules. Do you have any idea how long it's been since the last time I played baseball?"

The tall boy's eyebrows scrunched down into a puzzled frown. "Does that mean you did, ever? Because I would swear you told me that you'd never played sports until I helped you try out for the football team a couple years ago."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "And yet somehow, that hasn't stopped you from dragging me into dodge ball, pickup basketball and swimming races since we became brothers."

Finn just grinned. "I thought you could use some new experiences. Y'know, broadway your horizons."

"That's 'broaden' and I really could have very happily done without. Especially that time you tried to do a slam-dunk, tripped over your own feet, and ended up bouncing the ball off of my head! That was the moment I realized that a basketball scholarship was not in your future."

He snickered. "It was kind of funny, though."

Kurt snapped the pages of the magazine in his hands with a disgruntled huff. "Har har."

Suddenly, the front door slammed open and Sam charged in, followed closely by Puck, Blaine and Mercedes.

"We're here!" Sam bellowed, almost dashing right past them toward the upstairs before realizing that his two house-mates were sitting on the living room sofa. "Oh, hey. I didn't see you. So?"

Giving him a cool look, Kurt asked, "So, what?"

The blond boy grinned widely, as did his entourage. Blaine crossed over next to Kurt, boldly stealing his entertainment mag and tossing it on the coffee table as he helped himself to the now empty place in his boyfriend's lap. "Did he ask you? Are you coming with us?"

"I'm still working on it," Finn admitted.

"Dude, what's the hold-up?" Puck demanded, stealing a bag of Doritos from Finn's grasp, much to his friend's annoyance and Kurt's amusement. Around a large mouthful of tortilla chips, he turned to Kurt and garbled, "It's one afternoon. A little sun and exercise isn't gonna kill you. And we really need another guy."

Mercedes whacked him up the back of his mohawked head.

"Fine, sorry, another _person_. You happy now?"

She smiled serenely. "Yep. Give me some of those."

He passed her the bag of chips, ignoring Finn's pout as the snack proceeded to make its way around the group. Even Kurt, who wasn't a big fan, grabbed a few just to annoy his sibling a little more.

Mercedes took a seat on the couch and snuggled up to her best friend, allowing his boyfriend to drape his legs across her lap when he didn't seem inclined to remove himself from Kurt's. "So, you coming with us? It's a beautiful day, Kurt. You should get out and enjoy it with us."

"I know, but . . . baseball?" he whined, giving her a pleading look. "Seriously, guys, the last time I played I was nine years old and I sucked then! What makes you think that being twice as old won't just make me twice as bad?"

Puck suddenly snapped his fingers. "Dude, you played Little League with us for a while, didn't you? That community league that somebody started one summer."

Shocked that he had made the connection, Kurt nodded. "About half a season. I don't remember you being there."

The other boy chuckled and ran his fingers fondly through the stripe of hair decorating his scalp. "I wasn't exactly the bad-ass you know and love today when I was eight years old, Kurt, and your redwood of a brother was only a sapling then. The only reason I remember you was because we were playing against your team one game and you sang the National Anthem for us, then dumped all your gear and walked out. It was kind of an epic storm-out, bro. Berry would have been jealous."

Finn's eyes had become like saucers. "Dude, I remember that! That was _you_?"

Kurt blushed brightly, hiding his face in Blaine's shoulder with a groan when his boyfriend and Mercedes both looked impressed. Sam just laughed at the mental picture of pint-sized Kurt having a diva-moment.

"I hated it," Kurt said finally. "I never even wanted to play, but my dad signed me up in the hope that I would have fun and make friends and stop being so down-in-the-dumps about my mom. It was just a few months after she passed away and I wasn't ready to enjoy anything yet."

Sobered by the story, Sam asked, "Why'd you go through with it? From what I've seen of your dad these last few months, he totally would have understood."

"He did, eventually," Kurt explained, shrugging a little in remembered embarrassment, "but at the time, we were kind of desperate to connect with each other. We still weren't quite used to being a family of only two people and we didn't have a whole lot in common, so when I saw how excited he was about the prospect of coming to watch me play baseball games, I just had to try."

Mercedes ran the tips of her long fingernails soothingly through the hair above Kurt's ear. "I don't know why you guys are so surprised. It's the same reason he played football sophomore year."

Blaine blinked at his boyfriend in shock. "You played football? You never told me that! I thought you just did Cheerios."

"He was our kicker for three games," Finn said proudly. "I got him on the team!"

Puck snorted. "No, you got him the try-out. The kid got himself on the team by kicking a forty yard field goal on his very first attempt."

Blaine and Sam both whistled, impressed by the feat.

Attempting to shrug off the subject, Kurt told them, "The coach we had at the time was having a feud with Mr. Schuester and he made us choose between the team and the glee club, so I quit. So did Puck and Mike, until Finn talked the coach into letting people do both activities if they wanted to. I didn't. The first game was kind of fun, but after it gave me the courage to come out to my dad, everything was okay between us. I saw no point in freezing my ass off for another five games in the desperate hope that _somebody_ would actually score a touchdown and give me something to do."

"Dude, harsh," Puck scolded, stealing the soda Finn had just gotten for himself and taking a hearty slurp.

"Wait, rewind," Sam objected. "I still want to hear the rest of the Little League story. What caused the storm-out?"

Sighing reluctantly, Kurt explained, "Like I said, I didn't want to play. I hated the uniforms, and the mean kids, and the coach who kept sticking me out in right field. He wouldn't even give me a chance to learn how to play, just took one look at me and decided that I was hopeless. It just kept building up, until one day I couldn't take it any more and walked out. My dad chased after me and I finally confessed how much I hated it." Finally, Kurt smiled. "He was great about it, though. No surprises there. He apologized for forcing me to play, said he was proud of me for trying, and then took me to a movie instead. He even let me complain about the ugly uniforms when he watched baseball games on television after that."

"Stirrup pants?" Mercedes asked with a smile, drawing an automatic shiver of revulsion from both Kurt and Blaine.

Unwilling to give up, Finn gave his brother a pleading look. "Just because your coach was a douche and the other kids were jerks doesn't mean you should never play again. Baseball can be fun, and it'd just be us five. Plus Mike and Tina. It's not even a formal game, dude. There's not enough of us for a real team, so we just bat and catch and field the grounders and stuff."

"Nobody's going to laugh at you," Blaine told him solemnly. "Or make you wait out in the field all by yourself for a pop fly that might never come."

Kurt looked into his warm honey eyes, seeing more understanding there than he had expected. "You too?"

Blaine smiled. "Let's just say that I wasn't always the towering specimen I am today." He smiled when everybody burst out laughing, not minding at all because his joke had brought the smile back to Kurt's face. "I used to play with Cooper and his friends when I was little and they wouldn't let me do anything but wait out in the field. Cooper actually forgot I was out there one game and left with his buddies. He came back an hour later with my dad dragging him by the collar and lecturing like he was never going to stop."

"Aww, I'm sorry," Mercedes told him, giving his ankle a squeeze. "I used to play with my big brother too, but nothing like _that_ ever happened! I like to play now because it reminds me of how much fun we had back in those days. Come on, baby, what do you say. Give it a try? You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and I promise we'll be patient if you want to learn how to bat."

Kurt bit his lip, considering it. Mercedes was in good condition, but she wasn't what he normally considered athletic. If she was into this, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "I wouldn't have to chase after strays the whole game?" he negotiated, looking hard at Finn and Puck.

Finn just grinned. "No way. You can totally pitch if you'd rather. You'd probably rock at that, actually. You throw stuff at me all the time when I walk into your room uninvited."

"Or you could catch," Puck suggested with a smirk, suggestively eyeing the couple on the sofa. "If that's more your style."

Eyes narrowing, Kurt picked up a large orange from the fruit bowl he had been snacking out of earlier and chucked it at his leering friend, striking him square in the gut and drawing an "Oof!" of surprise from the other boy.

"Ooh, low and _inside_," Sam called out in his best sports-announcer voice. "Puckerman never saw that one coming! If Hummel can throw another curve-ball like that one, this inning is over."

The teens laughed, Puck tossing the orange thoughtfully into the air and giving Kurt a respectful nod before breaking open the peel and helping himself. "You might not be half-bad at this, man."

"Pleeeease," Blaine pleaded playfully, drawing the others into the chorus as well.

"Oh, _God!_ Fine! Let me go change into something that won't be destroyed if I get it dirty. Since I doubt there's any way to do this without breaking a sweat, unfortunately."

"Awesome, we'll go pack everything in your SUV, since it's the only vehicle big enough for all of us."

"And the truth comes out," Kurt drawled, rolling his eyes at his grinning step-brother.

"Remember," Finn replied in his best 'wise' tone. "Dirt and sweat will wash away but good memories last forever."

Kurt gave him a pained look. "You bought one of those jumbo bags of fortune cookies at Walmart again, didn't you?"

Puck perked up. "Dude, you got cookies and you didn't tell me?"

The taller boy just shrugged, then addressed Kurt again, "By the way, bro, did I mention that we're going out for pizza and bowling afterward?"

A soft snort met this announcement, Kurt levering Blaine out of his lap and accepting his offered hand, which he did not release once they were both on their feet. "Oh, well, why didn't you say so? What kind of fool would _possibly_ resist the combination of baseball _and_ greasy Lima Bowl pizza?"

"Dude, don't you ever listen to the Puckmeister? I told you that you should have started with the pizza!" Puck said, swatting Finn upside the head. "You could have saved us twenty minutes!"

Mercedes ignored them, grabbing Kurt's free hand. "Come on, white boy. Let's go find you something to wear that you can get a little messed up without having a stroke. A pair of last season's jeans, maybe."

"Nah," Sam said, following along after the trio, a grin already stretching his wide mouth from ear to ear. "Last season was those pants that looked like he was endangering his future children every time he wore them. Go with the Armani distressed jeans from last winter. Those had some give. I'll let you borrow a T-shirt if you don't have one you're willing to risk, Kurt, though that black graphic tee with the stadium design would be kind of perfect."

Kurt just nodded, accepting the suggestion, but Blaine was giving the blond boy a very odd look. "Are you _sure_ you're straight?"

Mercedes' warm chuckled bubbled out. "Oh, he's straight, all right. Believe _me_!"

Kurt was smiling again as well. "He is, but Sam borrowed my clothes for two months in Junior year, remember? Some of my impeccable taste was bound to rub off on him."

"As long as that's the only thing that was rubbing," Blaine muttered, casting another suspicious look that just make Mercedes laugh harder, which got Sam and Blaine laughing too.

Looking around at his wonderful collection of friends, Kurt had to smile. He still wasn't too keen on the idea of spending his afternoon out in the sun, wind and dirt, running around a baseball diamond, but he suspected that having the right company might just make all the difference in the world.

**THE END**

**Comments?**


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